Pirates of the Caribbean: Ring of the Faithless
by Romani Cat
Summary: Will and Elizabeth are finally married, but as with everything else in the Caribbean, nothing goes without a few, er... hitches? )
1. Prologue

_These seas are full of old magic; don't ever let anyone tell you differently. Why, everyone has heard of the curse of the Black Pearl by now… a crew of the damned led by one so terrible that Hell itself spat him back out. Some have seen evidence of the chaos always left in her wake, but the point I'm trying to make here is that if you are willing to believe in one curse, don't you by default acknowledge the possibility for others?_

_I saw one work its terrible vengeance on a solitary man, a man who had once been fine and noble, but who had been driven to madness by nothing more dangerous than a woman's scorn. _

_We were doing what pirates do best, you see, and attacking the merchant liners that frequented the exotic ports for local riches to take back to merry old England. Just so happens that one of the passengers on our latest find was an English baronet who seemed to be running from someone or something. There was no getting any true sense out of him, after we'd taken him prisoner. He amused the captain because he babbled about some of the strangest things. _

_The thing I remember most, however, was the ring on his finger. It was a beautiful emerald, clasped by two hands. He couldn't be shut of it soon enough, an odd thing, but the Captain didn't see fit to question it, as he relieved the man of the most expensive article on his person. He kept claiming that it had been a ruby once, but that his princess had cursed him for being unfaithful to her, and jealousy had stolen over the stone._

_His stay wasn't a long one; he went completely mad and attacked the captain in a short-lived duel, screaming much as he had every night since we'd taken him, as though all the devils in hell were ripping out his innards. The crew was unsettled enough by his talk of curses to stand back and let events take their course, which ended in the baronet's death. Strangest thing was…he was right. After he'd breathed his last, the ring went back to being a ruby. Never would have imagined such a thing in all my days…and it lingered._

_So I did some checking around and found out that the man had indeed been married to a Romanian princess of some reputation. When she caught him cheating on her, she apparently gave him the ring as a condition for taking him back. The poor sod never had a chance, since he couldn't keep his hands to himself to… well, save his life._

_No, my advice to you is never to tangle with the Romani, for they have a tendency to make promises stick, and for the sake of all that's holy, never put on that ring, it's got a very limited worldview, as you can well imagine, and cheating is any intimacy without a vow to back it up. That ring is better left back on Isla del Muerta, where it can't do anyone any further harm.

* * *

Jack Sparrow looked out over the empty sea where his ship had been sitting at port when they arrived, and realized that once more, The _Black Pearl_ had gone somewhere without him. Dimly, Elizabeth's apology registered with him, and he nodded his head, knowing what was to come._

"_They done what's right by them, can't expect more than that." He assured her, as though this sort of thing happened to him all the time. Looking to Will, then back to Elizabeth, he shrugged his shoulders, "Look, William…Elizabeth, if the only way back for me is aboard the _Dauntless_, they're not going to let me keep my selection of trinkets, savvy? I think you both would benefit by hiding the things and keeping them set back for times when you might need them." So saying, he began to pull off all of the jewelry, from necklaces to rings to the ridiculously ornamented crown that adorned his head, wrapping them all in a fancy cloak that had somehow made its way into the boat with them. The last item he parted with, feeling strangely reluctant to take it off, was the ruby ring clasped by a pair of golden hands. He tossed it into the top of the small pile and twisted it all into a bundle before handing it to Will. "Hide it beneath the seat, boy, and take it with you when we make port, aye?"_

_Will, still not certain of Jack's motives, eventually nodded and took the bundle, stowing it as instructed beneath the seat. _


	2. Aye But We're Loved

The view from between the bars of the prison in Port Royal, Jack reflected, afforded a much more pleasant scene than the bleak monotony of the granite walls stretching upward less than ten paces beyond the jail which had been carved from the very mountainside it sat upon. He supposed, as well, that the reason it was so dank in here, had something to do with the rock composition of the cell walls. Needless to say, his accommodations brought back less than pleasant memories. No, Trinidad was not an ideal place to spend any time behind barred windows. 

The echoes clattered around him for a moment before he sorted them into four distinct footfalls, and they sounded to be heading in this very direction, so Jack moved from the supposed comfort of a window looking out, and sprawled with his usual careless grace on the floor, tucking his hands beneath his head with a supreme act of unconcern. It wasn't long before uniformed men rounded the corner, yes the total was four, and came to a halt outside his lonely little cell.

"Good afternoon and how might I be helping you fine gentlemen?" Jack started the conversation off. They were so stodgy, when you let them get the first word, he'd found, and if he could get them to smile, well…he had half a chance of winning them over, see? His question was met in a distressing manner with four grim faces, and he thought to himself that these chaps, these upstanding fellows would be ideal card players.

"Jack Sparrow, the governor will see you now. However, I wouldn't consider that even the slightest bit of good news, as he has told me himself he has every intention of hanging you in the morning, just as soon as he makes sure such an action would actually _kill_ you, whatever that means."

Jack rose resolutely to his feet, making an effort to behave as though he'd been mortally offended, which he had, by rights, and clasped his hands together in a display of effeminate affectation. "Well then, you boys should be taking me to see his governorship, shouldn't you, instead of jawing here with the prisoner?" this was not good…not good at all. Someone was privy to the curse, someone that he was fairly certain he didn't know, and the very thought sent a chill down his spine.

Even after he had been escorted to the Governor's office, Jack was forced to wait for another span of time, though he was left to his own devices and surprisingly unshackled. They must be confident of their ability to keep him from escaping, and when he got a good look out the window, he understood why. This view was a lot more breathtaking in more than one way. It was a straight drop down, and it ended with a small shelf of stone, that was washed over with the tide, depending on the time of day. With a disgruntled sigh, he took up a seat in the chair behind the fancy desk, and propped his feet up on the polished wooden surface, tired of standing on attendance, as it were.

He was just lifting a pear lying in the basket on the desk, when footsteps once more allowed him some warning of an approaching individual. He sprang to his feet, to be more presentable, one never could be too careful with first impressions, but dropped the pear which sent him dashing a few feet after it. This unfortunate circumstance had him bent nearly double, with his backside to the door when an irritated cough had him looking back over his shoulder. The pear fell free of nerveless fingertips, and Jack, for perhaps the only time in his life, was left without something clever or glib to say.

"B…" he began, before a sharp gesture from the other cut him off.

"No excuses, Jack Sparrow."

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow." the lean pirate corrected, though he realized on his own that there was a strangled tone in his voice that might indicate just how discomfited he was by the other man.

"I see no ship, therefore you warrant no title." Jack flushed angrily,

"Here now, I would still be on _m_y ship, if your bullyboys hadn't gone and plucked me from it without so much as a how do you do!"

"Just as well I left your crew out of this, don't you think?" countered the nobleman standing in the doorway. Jack took a moment to get a good solid look at him. Advancing in age, though certainly still whippet lean and well formed, which indicated he either maintained a very active lifestyle, or had only recently given one up. "I'd hate to have all of them hanged for a crime only you were responsible for." Dark hair, pulled back in a tail close to the base of his skull, apparently eschewing the use of those ridiculous powdered wigs that were all the rage in London. Lastly, he met a pair of piercing brown eyes that seemed to stare straight through Jack, forcing him to resist the urge to squirm. Jack decided that the best way to approach this would be to pretend as though he knew nothing of this fellow; since he wasn't sure what game he was playing at, or who might be listening in on the other side of the door. Jack squinted.

"You seem familiar to me, have we met before?"

"Governor Teague." The other responded sharply, forestalling any claims of prior knowledge.

"Right, right…Guvnor." Jack responded quietly. "Might I inquire as to the purpose for harboring such a seeming hatred of me, or would it be just because I am a pirate… sir?"

"One tends to hate the man responsible for the death of his only child, Jack Sparrow. I doubt you really care to examine your seeming lack of a wish to settle down, considering how many loose women you keep company with, but I had a family once, and you and your damnable treasures destroyed them." Jack frowned again, an expression that he went to a lot of trouble to avoid, usually.

"Ah…there's where you're wrong, mate. Last time I checked, your young William was engaged to be married, and if you don't set me back on my ship fairly soon, so that I may be underway, I'll never make it in time to be a guest." He leaned across the desk conspiratorially. "I hear there's going to be plenty of rum, savvy?" He looked around the room for any hint of a liquor cabinet. "You wouldn't happen to have a bottle handy, would you?"

Jack discovered the rum was gone because the former 'Bootstrap' Bill had turned into a bloody teetotaler. It was rather disappointing, all in all, and made it innately more difficult for him to trust his one-time friend.

"So what is the purpose of this whole sham, Bill?" he finally asked, after they'd been staring at each other across the desk for a span of no few minutes. Jack allowed himself to imagine that the elder Turner was in the process of digesting the knowledge that his son was still among the living, when he'd been all set to avenge his death. The other man lifted a brow in a questioning sort of look. "What sham would that be, Jack?" Jack waved his hand in the air in a mystifying manner,

"You know the whole 'Governor Teague' thing?"

"What makes you think it a ruse at all?"

"Because you're a pirate, and a bloody good one at that!" Jack retorted, certain of at least one fact, the one he had just plainly stated. Bill Turner… Teague, whatever he chose to call himself, had changed so drastically from the man he had sailed with, that Jack didn't rightly know if he could still call him a 'good man'.

"That was in another life, Jack. Younger sons of earls often have very few prospects by way of inheritance. Things have changed since then. I loved the ocean, before she betrayed me. Now I have other duties that I adhere to. So I will give you a chance to prove to me that you do not lie about my son, or it'll be your neck in the noose."

Jack pursed his lips thoughtfully. "It'll take some time to send a ship to Port Royal and back, mate, but if you'd be willing to wait that long, you return me to the _Black Pearl _and…" Teague cut him short in his planning with another sharp gesture. Clearly, Jack thought, he was the one running this escapade, however madcap it might seem from the outside.

"No, Jack…I don't trust you not to run, should I release you on your word. I will send another ship, and you will remain my guest until Will is brought safely home."

"That may take some doing," Jack began dubiously. "As he's quite taken with the lovely Miss Swann. Governor's daughter, you know. Very pretty, very…spirited."

"I don't recall saying that Will would have a choice, now did I?" the governor remarked, calm behind his desk. Jack paused, before closing his mouth over what he might have said. It would not float at this moment, no… "It's time the boy learned of his heritage…_if_ he is still alive, as you say."

"That truly hurts, Bill. It's like I always say; you can always trust…"

"A dishonest man to be dishonest. I know, Jack. This is why you will remain here, until the truth has been proven to my satisfaction." He stepped to the door, and had a few brief words with the guards that had apparently been posted outside it. The escort back to his cell this time was reduced to two, but somehow that didn't make Jack feel any better.

* * *

Propriety dictated that a man was allowed to wear hosen, to show off the shape of his calves. On the other hand, if a woman showed so much as a flash of ankle, she was considered lewd and improper, and it was a fair bet that her company could be traded for a handful of coins. The first soldier that propositioned the dark-skinned beauty that came walking down the dock in trousers learned quickly that whatever she was selling, it wasn't her body. Nursing a swiftly blackening eye, he agreed to take her to see the Governor, which was her only request. 

Anamaria was surprised when the man escorted her not toward the mansion overlooking the port, but rather toward the grim little jail set into the mountainside. "Quite a walk, are you sure you are not taking me to see the inside of a cell, instead?" her voice was skeptical. The man dithered,

"I'm quite sure, ma'am, as it's the governor's habit to oversee the workings of the jail, when his duties can allow for it. Otherwise, you'd have to wait for an appointment to see him in the manor house, and you'd be waiting longer than I think you have the patience for." Mollified, the pirate woman nodded her acquiescence. "Very well, then move faster so that my business may be done and you will see the backside of me." The guard speculated about how much he'd have to bleed before he could enjoy such a view on the rest of the walk, which passed in silence.

The exterior to the governor's office was austere, and lacked personality, which gave Anamaria no clue as to how she might approach the man, or even what sort of bargain he might find equitable to setting Jack Sparrow free. When she set eyes on the man, after being seen through the door, she began to have an inkling of an idea.

"If it's about your captain, you can do one of two things, madam." He began, without even giving her a chance to state her case. "In the first, you will sail to Port Royal and take a young man by the name of Will Turner into your custody, whereupon you will escort him back here, and conduct him into my care.'

"And if I do not like the first choice?" the pirate woman retorted sharply. She had no desire to sail to Port Royal…much less for such a disruptive venture as kidnapping the intended of the governor's precious daughter. Anamaria had to admit, however, the girl had plenty of spirit, and given time and training would probably make a fine pirate, just as she had.

"Then you should grow accustomed to being captain of the Black Pearl, as that is the only way you will win Jack Sparrow free of my… accommodations." It took a moment for Anamaria to sort through stunned disbelief, and realize that she hadn't simply misheard the man.

"There is only one captain of the _Black Pearl_... as I am sure you must know by now, Bill Turner." He looked too much like Will not to be the selfsame pirate that Jack spoke of so rarely. One did not speak of the dead, and now she understood why. They always come back to haunt those who do. "I do not understand how you can demand such a high price of him, but none aboard the Pearl will barter in such a fashion. You'd do better to set him free now, before your actions come back against you."

"I would not worry so about _my_ actions. Your own honor is dubious enough, Anamaria, when you consider how many men are aboard that ship. One might... question Jack's motives for keeping you aboard. I doubt it's for your sharp mind." The smirk was painful, but with the soldiers standing at attention on either side of the door, Anamaria did not dare strike it from his face. She drew herself up proudly, ignoring the barb. Despite what Jack might think, she was not always so willing to slap first, and allow for questions later. Oh, who was she kidding? The guard with the steadily discoloring eye had to hide a grin, as the resounding slap sent Teague back a few paces.

"You will not question my place aboard the _Black Pearl_, Governor. I am first mate, and I do not sleep with Jack Sparrow for my position. He respects me, the least you could do is follow his good example."

"My terms remain unchanged. You can have your captain in exchange for Will Turner. If you do not bring me the boy, you do not get your captain back… _savvy_?" he caught her hand this time, as she raised it to slap him again. "Oh, no…this will not do. I let you strike me once, Anamaria, but you'll pay the consequences for a second." She jerked her hand free of his encircling grasp, and stepped back.

"I will consult with the crew, but you are making a fool's bargain. We all sailed with Will Turner. His devotion to his fiancé is quite admirable, if a bit naïve. Separating them will only bring you trouble, and I doubt any man jack of the crew will agree to it."

"Let me decide what trouble I will bring to my door, Anamaria. You attend your own affairs. Go talk to your crew. They're pirates, since when has breaking the law ever caused them to turn even one hair out of place?"

"The rules have changed. You will see."

* * *

Mr. Gibbs was as shocked as the rest of the crew when Anamaria presented the terms of Jack Sparrow's release. More than the others, when she revealed to him, in a private conversation later in the evening just who it was who had set the terms down. 

"So old 'Bootstrap' is still around is he? He's asking for all manner of bad luck, by the sounds of it."

"I do not think he has stopped to consider what it is he's really asking, though I am certain I told him once, and Jack may have mentioned it, if they've had conversation. We cannot do this thing, Mr. Gibbs. Anyone else….I would not hesitate to seal the bargain, if it would win Jack from that wretched jail…but I doubt he feels that his freedom in exchange for Will's is a fair trade."

"That's the problem with sailing with Captain Jack, isn't it? Eventually, you begin to pick up his personal code, and there's no breaking it."

Gibbs was not a stupid man, contrary to popular belief. Still, it was always in his favor to convince others that he was simple, and his cause was often assisted by the flask of rum that he always kept about his person. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, and looked to Anamaria. "If we won't help him, and by Jack's orders, and our own consciences, we will do nothing to bring harm to young Mr. Turner, he will want to hire another crew to do his dirty work. Now…whatever else he may have threatened, he and Jack have too much history between them for him to put Jack on the gallows tree. My guess'd be that he'll send his scoundrels after Will and hold Jack until he knows there isn't enough time for the crew of the _Black Pearl_ to stop him."

"Do you think we should sail to Port Royal, to warn Will?" Anamaria asked cautiously. Her dark features were creased with concern.

"You know as well as I do that we can't. All of Jack's bluster aside, I don't think he would risk taunting the Royal British Navy with the presence of such a formidable target, even to see that fine young pair married." Gibbs looked out over the sun-drenched waters around the ship, the sails and rigging creaking in the mild breeze that ruffled through their hair. "Besides, I don't think anyone tangling with Will Turner is going to know what hit them. That boy is the very devil with a sword in his hand."

* * *

"I envy you," Governor Teague said into the silence which had blanketed the dining room through most of the meal. Jack paused in his decimation of roast pheasant and looked up at Bill, his expression incredulous in wide, dark eyes. 

"I'm sorry, I think I misheard you."

"You did not. Must you make this so difficult?" Bill seemed almost desperate to open the lines of communication, and it was jarring for Jack to realize that he was largely friendless here in this grand Governorship. It stilled the barbed comment on his tongue, on how it was the governor that wanted to hang him, not the other way around, and if he was making it difficult, he was only within his rights.

"Very well, I concede your point, I am making it difficult…but you're still going to have to expand on just what it is I've done that has aroused your sense of envy. Is my reputation finally spreading to the point of infamy?"

"You spent a great deal of time with my son, Jack. I've never laid eyes on him, in all his years, and now he is a man grown. Tell me…what is he like?"

"He looks a lot like you," Jack responded, his tone thoughtful as he considered memories of the young blacksmith. "He holds a deep and abiding distrust in all things piratical."

"How did you meet?"

"A rather memorable occasion, as he was doing his best to kill me, at the time."

"Really, now!"

"It's the truth, your Will has turned quite a fine hand at the blacksmith's art, and he's quite capable of using the weapons he creates. He very nearly beat me, and I had to cheat to disarm him."

"That was low of you, Jack."

"And well I know it, but I'm certain it was far more preferable to the alternative!"

"There is that." The meal resumed, and Jack returned to his repast, chewing on a grape or two as he thought about Will, and the last time he'd seen the lad, dressed in his finest clothes as he took over mastery of old Brown's smithy. He'd been so proud and vibrant.

"He's a good boy, your Will. You'd be proud."

"I will be proud when he and I meet."

"Is there nothing I can say to convince you this is all madness?" Teague rose to his feet, his expression resolute.

"Gentlemen, please escort Captain Sparrow back to his cell, if you would be so kind?" he turned to meet Jack's eye. "This conversation is at an end."

* * *

_Fourteen days later, in Port Royal, Jamaica._

Weatherby Swann considered himself a learned man, so as he regarded the individual that sat across from his desk in the Governor's office at the port, he determined that the man was the worst sort of villain, based on his appearance alone. Swann did his best not to curl his lip in revulsion, or reach for the silk handkerchief to cover his nose. "I will ask you once more, sir, what you are doing in my township." He said, feeling he was being completely reasonable about this.

The man sneered at him. "And I'd ask _you_ why an honest man is snatched from his ship by British soldiers for no apparent reason, Guv."

"Your men were circulating through Port Royal, in places that sailors do not generally go, sir. It smacks highly of suspicion. Were they, perhaps, canvassing the town to determine how much of worth could be got from sacking Port Royal?"

"The last time I heard, it was called shore leave, Guv. I don't dictate to my men where they go, or what they do, so long as they don't start fights." The man smiled slyly. "Perhaps they have high born sweethearts in the better parts of town, aye? I do hear that women favor adventurous men. Could be…I don't know, like your own fine daughter, perhaps? The wedding is tomorrow, is it not?" Weatherby flushed angrily.

"I doubt your men have very little in common with Mr. Turner, sir. His work as a smith is highly sought after, and he is rapidly becoming considered the finest sword smith in the Caribbean. You'd do well to watch your tongue." But the words still had a faint ring of falseness to them, and the other man picked up on it swiftly, far too swiftly.

"You still don't like him. He's not good enough for the likes of your daughter now, is he? What's a tradesman doing courting a girl of noble blood, anyway?"

"That is none of your concern, sir." Weatherby sniffed critically. He was surprised when the man leaned forward, for a closer talk, the grin on his face taking on a predatory look.

"But it could be…it could be. I could get rid of him for you. Not kill him, of course!" he raised a hand at the protestations that he sensed were coming from the governor. "Just…take him off the island and somewhere else…somewhere he wouldn't be a trouble to you marrying your girl off to someone far more appropriate to her station."

"Only if you can make it look like he left of his own accord." Swann found himself saying, before he realized the words were out of his mouth. "Otherwise, Elizabeth will never listen to me." He sighed, realizing he was in it deep, now, whether he wanted to be or not.

"How much are you willing to pay me to do this, eh?" the man, no…pirate, Weatherby corrected himself in his head, was close enough that the governor could smell the foulness of his breath.

"Fifty pieces of gold," Swann answered finally "Take him away from here, take him away from my daughter, and the deal is struck." He stood up and moved to unlock a drawer of the desk he'd been sitting in, pulling out a hefty purse. Counting out the money deliberately in front of the man was something of a pleasure. It left no doubt who held the higher station. "My men will be watching your ship. If you leave without him, I'll send the Navy after you for thievery. A deal is a deal…captain."

"I have no reason not to honor the bargain, your governorship," The man retorted, that predatory look still clinging to his face. It made him look like the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing; he bounced a few of the coins in his palm. "And all the more incentive to get it done right, wouldn't you say? I'll have him off the island before you can say Jack Boo."

"You can't get it done before the wedding?" there was a twisting in his guts…if he couldn't keep her from marrying Will Turner, all of their plans would be for nothing.

"Easy now, Guv… Rome wasn't built in a day, they says. Here's where you get tricky. Find yerself a man who can pretend at being a priest, and the vows will never be true. That way, when we grab the lad, your girl is free and clear, and you come out smelling like roses."

"Of course… of course, it's not like the pretense has never been done in the past, after all. Why, that pirate Jack Sparrow once pretended to be clergy." Swann nodded to himself. "Keep your men on your ship, or in the taverns. If you were looking for the blacksmith's shop, I'll give you directions straight to it, but on my daughter's honor, have the man off the island before anything untoward occurs."

"Whatever you say, Guv."

* * *

Commodore Norrington was furious. Governor Swann recognized it, not so much by the expression on his face, but rather the sheer lack of one. That, coupled with how tightly the navy man's lips were pressed together, and Swann knew he would have to do some talking to calm him down. 

"You let that pirate and his crew go. Why?"

"Come now, James. Between us, not a one of them had the brand, and they may really just have been honest sailors mistaken for scoundrels."

"I don't suppose you noticed that 'not one of those men' seemed to know very much about any of his mates when I questioned them." Norrington moved from where he'd been standing by the desk and began to pace the room, pensive to the last as he began to explain his suspicions. "Men who spend a great deal of time on the water learn to get along, or they find another berth to call home, Governor. No…these men haven't been sailing together for very long. Something is going on, and I intend to get to the bottom of it." Swann shrugged, affecting his usual helplessness in navy matters. Life on the sea was not his preference; he was by and large a landlubber to the core.

"Keep watch over them, in this circumstance. If they sail before the wedding, inform me at once…if not, their business will keep, I am sure. I know you agreed to stand in as Mr. Turner's best man, and I would not keep you from such a pleasant obligation with trivial duties." Norrington turned from where he'd ended by the window in his pacing, pale eyes wide in their regard, a small element of surprise swiftly swept away by military indifference.

"You've never forgiven him for winning Elizabeth's heart." His mouth twitched in sudden thought. "And you've never forgiven me for not coming between them and pressing my suit when I had the chance."

"How I feel is rather irrelevant at this point, wouldn't you say?" Swann asked his voice coolly collected. Norrington's eyes drifted back out to sea, his heart would always belong to her, after all.

"Yes…yes, I suppose it is." His voice had returned to calm and thoughtful, his mind somewhere far away in the warmth of the sunny Caribbean.

* * *

Will stood at the head of the church struggling not to fidget and he recalled the reasons Elizabeth had stated for selecting the ring from their small collection of loot, and he remembered the burn of his cheeks as he blushed nearly as dark as the perfect ruby set in the cradle of the two hands that formed the golden band. 

"This ring represents the passion I have for you, Will Turner. I want you to look at this ring and think of me, always."

"Why would I need the ring, then? I plan to be spending the rest of my life with you, Miss Swann."

"Will! We are to be married; you can call me Elizabeth now, can't you?" She swatted his arm playfully, and he took the blow with stoic grace.

"Yes…and I will call you by your given name on our wedding night…Miss Swann." The look he gave her then had been enough to turn her knees to water.

It was the same look she was giving him now, he realized with bemusement, as she slipped the ring on his finger and recited her sacred vows. His mind drifted back to the madness of the morning, refusing to stay focused in the moment at hand as his stomach fluttered with nerves.

There had been quite the scramble when it was discovered that the priest who had agreed to perform the ceremony could not be found. He'd left a note explaining his need to travel inland to one of the island's crofter huts to attend to a dying man, and his apologies for leaving at the very last moment. A search had been conducted of the port to find a replacement with all haste. Finally, a Spanish missionary who barely spoke English had been discovered that agreed to fill in and was qualified to perform the wedding rites.

Once everyone but the bride had gathered in the chapel, Commodore James Norrington stood by Will as he waited for his intended at the head of the church. James had been witness to the furtive, searching glances that Will had directed into the audience gathered among the pews on either side of the center aisle. The wedding of the governor's daughter was a grand event, and there were quite a few here who had not been invited, but couldn't be kept away. But yet, there was one missing, and Norrington knew who Will was looking for without being told.

"I am sure he will be here, Mr. Turner. He couldn't possibly turn down free rum." The commodore spoke in a low voice meant for the smith's ears alone. Will jumped as though he'd been pole-axed between the eyes. At least he gave James the benefit of the doubt; but then Turner was the most _honest _pirate that Norrington had ever had the dubious honor of meeting.

"It was Elizabeth's suggestion,"

"And a good one, too. Don't worry, Turner. I won't arrest your friend…not today."

Of course, by that point, Will wasn't listening to him anyway, as he stood transfixed, his eyes toward the rear of the chapel. James understood when he followed the young man's gaze.

A group of the younger girls in the port were in the lead, throwing flower petals every which way with mad abandon as they cavorted up the center aisle. Behind them, a vision of beauty walked gracefully in measured steps, the white on white of the brocade gown that adorned her slender figure sparkled as tiny seed beads flashed and caught the light with every step.

"She's lovely, Turner. My congratulations." Will did not answer, as he was trying to pry his tongue from the roof of his mouth, so that speech might be managed later, when it counted.

* * *

Norrington had to admit a bit of his own disappointment that Jack Sparrow hadn't seen fit to witness the wedding in any small part, because it had been a sight to see the handsome young couple joined in wedlock at last. The reception was in full swing, and he was standing by himself. He held a full glass of rum that he had not even taken a single drink from carelessly cradled in one hand. As he became lost in his musings, Elizabeth appeared at his side. 

"Will thinks that Jack does not care about what happens with us, having won his freedom." Her words were quiet, understated, echoing slightly that she might agree with the sentiment. James nodded.

"I feel something must have come up to deter him from your finest day, Mrs. Turner." The reassurance sounded hollow, even to his ears.

"I am sure he will come skulking into port one of these afternoons about how he beat the very devil in a swordfight, but was delayed from making it here in the doing of it."

"More than likely," James laughed, her wit was always unexpected, and one tended to forget that there was a sharp mind behind the beauty of her appearance at their peril.

"Are you happy, James?" Elizabeth fixed him with a determined look, one that indicated that she would not be satisfied with less than complete honesty. He'd seen that look before, and knew it well. In accordance with the weight of the question, he did not answer her right away. He felt her question deserved the fullest measure of deliberation before he spoke.

"Yes, Elizabeth, I really am." But he didn't leave it at such a simple answer. "If I could not win your heart, I could not ask for any man more steadfast in this place than Will Turner. Your happiness will always come before his, and you will want for nothing that he can provide. It makes me happy to know that he will take care of you, perhaps more completely than I could have. I may be the 'best man' here, but he is the better man for you." Her eyes were soft and unfocused with her own thought, before she answered.

"I could have grown to love you in time, James. Thank you for allowing me the freedom to choose a different path."

"Thank you for considering me at all."

"Will and I are to leave soon…the guests are becoming too boisterous. I suspect their behavior has something to do with all of the rum lying about. Vile drink, that." Her brown eyes flicked to his hand, and the untouched drink. Silently, he couldn't agree with her more.

"Then, Mrs. Turner, might I have the pleasure of a dance, before you go?"

"Gladly, Commodore Norrington…gladly."

* * *

The living portion of the smithy was blessedly quiet in comparison to the wild rowdiness of the gathering Will and Elizabeth left behind them. Will carried his new wife over the threshold of the small apartment without any trouble at all, years of working with the forge honing his muscles to the peak of fitness. 

After setting her to her feet, Will wandered through the rooms, lighting candles wherever he went. The place was lit with a warm glow when he turned to regard his wife in her wedding finery.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I don't dare touch you; I don't want to ruin anything." Elizabeth had to stifle the urge to laugh, because he was deadly earnest and she knew he spoke for his nervousness.

"You're going to have to help me out of these things, Will, and get this corset off. I can't breathe."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think…" she took the few steps forward necessary to reach up and stop his stammered apology with her fingers to his lips.

"Hush, Will. Stop apologizing to me for things you do not know." And she smiled to reassure him. "After all, you can't know _everything_."

"I never claimed to." He responded with a dry whisper, but his hands explored her waistline before he turned her away from him so that he might better see how the lacings worked. After that, it didn't take him long at all to get her out of the dress.

* * *

The candlelight burnished Elizabeth's skin to molten gold as she lay on the bed. Will could tell that Elizabeth was nervous, or perhaps even afraid that he might hurt her in his enthusiasm. Carefully, as though he were touching the most fragile glass, he began to explore her skin, marveling at the softness of it beneath work-calloused fingertips. Equally surprising, but certainly thrilling were the sounds that she made as he touched her. 

She began to relax in stages as the caresses continued and Will reflected back to Jack Sparrow's words. Not all treasure was gold, but tonight, in the candlelight, she came close.

Elizabeth gasped as Will cupped his hand over the thatch of curls between her legs and Will closed his eyes as the world swam out of focus around him. Drawing breath became a challenge; it felt as though he were being dipped in liquid fire, as every inch of his body burned from the inside out. His breath caught in his throat, sensation drowning him in an impossible tide.

He must have made some sound, or been still too long, just looking at her, because Elizabeth stirred and opened her eyes.

"Are you all right? We don't have to…"

"Yes we do. It is our wedding night, Elizabeth, and we've both waited long enough for this. Just let me look at you, for a moment." That he wanted her was unmistakable, his body made that more than plain and he flushed with embarrassment that she had so obvious an effect on him. Elizabeth rolled to one elbow and reached for a glass on the nearby table, half full of amber rum.

"Here, Will…drink some of this. Jack would call it liquid courage."

Will did as she bade him, and tossed back the fiery liquid in three long swallows, feeling the burn as it went all the way down. It was strong enough to cloud his vision and he shook his head to clear it. When he looked back at Elizabeth, he knew what to do for her…for them both.

He began by drawing a fingertip up her inner thigh, tracing a line only he could see in her pale flesh. Up, until his hand was edging into the damp between her legs, and then in…delving as gently as he could, but implacable in his determination to wring a sound from her throat that he had not yet heard. Elizabeth responded by arching her back, opening herself more to his explorations. He had imagined what a woman might feel like many times, but his idle musings didn't even come close.

On a whim, he stroked his tongue along the wet, silken folds beneath his hand and was rewarded with a breathy cry from his bride. Taking the cue she'd just given him, Will attacked the sensitive flesh with fervor, licking and suckling at the tender nubbin until Elizabeth was thrashing with tension, her cries becoming more imperative.

"Will, if you do not finish what you have begun, I swear, I will scream." It sent a shiver of delight through him that she was no longer the demure, proper girl that polite society couldn't get enough of. Will raised his head from his distraction and noticed how flush her skin had become. Once again, he proved how pliant to her wishes he could be, by crawling up her body until they were eye to eye, the hard length of him pressed against her hip. He was holding his weight above her with one hand, she realized, and the other was out of sight down along their bodies.

"If you scream," he whispered, mouth mere inches from hers. "I won't be able to finish." And he dipped his head to kiss her hungrily, even as he claimed her body to the fullest. The sound she made was muffled against his mouth, and Will stopped moving instantly, the fear that he'd hurt her underscoring his actions.

"I am fine, Will," she assured once she's gotten her breath back enough to speak. "I only need a moment to adjust." Will nodded, remaining still within her until she began to move beneath him, urging him to continue.

Will became lost then, as he joined Elizabeth in a primal dance as old as time itself, though completely new to both of them. She existed to be filled and filled as he strained to reach something just beyond his grasp, sensation building with every thrust of his hips.

It was Elizabeth's voice crying his name as her body clenched around him that pushed Will over the edge into climax, his hands twisting into the sheets on either side of her shoulders. Will lost all reason as his pleasure crashed over and through him, rocking his entire body with the strength of his release.

"I love you, Elizabeth Turner," he said, when he'd caught his breath again.

"And I love you, Will Turner." Elizabeth responded softly, wonder in her voice at what they'd done together. Bodies tangled around each other and in the sheets, the pair fell asleep. They had been so caught up in their lovemaking that neither noticed the ruby of Will's ring leeching itself of sanguine color, three tiny drops of blood staining the sheet beneath Will's upturned hand until an emerald glittered balefully in the failing candlelight.

* * *

Will woke up because he felt like he was suffocating, his mouth parched with a thirst unlike any he'd ever experienced, even in the hottest day at the forge. He licked his lips, trying to restore moisture to parched tissue to no avail, and determined that he'd have to get up to find something to drink. Carefully, so as to avoid waking his wife as he rose from the bed... His _wife_, Will slid from her embrace reluctantly and began to dress quietly in the darkness, pulling his breeches on through ease of long practice. He frowned, trying to think where the drinking water was, and realized that he kept it in the forge. Things would have to change, now that he had a wife to take care of. It made him want to pause and marvel over what he was now…a husband! 

With a fog of ebullience clouding his mind, he wandered into the forge and found the jug of water where he'd left it last. Popping the stopper free, he leaned his head back and drank deeply of the cooling liquid, relishing the feel of it as it slid down his throat. The water was easier on the body than the rum she'd offered him earlier; he could certainly vouch for that. Lingering over the jug of water, Will remembered in vivid detail everything he and Elizabeth had experienced in sharing the bed and it made him want to go in and wake her, to try it all over again. Propriety, however, stopped him from doing it. She'd earned her rest, it really had been such a long day, and he'd never been so nervous in his entire life, not even with Captain Barbossa holding a knife to his throat, with his death in the balance.

No, the chivalrous thing to do was to inhibit his natural desire, and to further this cause, he decided the best thing for it was to dunk his head in the barrel of water he used to cool the blades red-hot from the forge after he was done working them. Flinging wet hair back and out of his face, with water still streaming into his eyes, Will never saw the men who grabbed him.

Instinct had him kicking out and pushing off the heavy water barrel to stagger the man who had wrapped him in a bear hug from behind, even as another assailant jammed a burlap sack over his head, effectively blinding him. With his arms pinned to his sides, Will was defenseless and he knew it. The stink of whatever had been in the sack nearly overpowered him as he stopped struggling to be free, and focused on breathing.

"Take what you've come for, but leave me in peace," he ground out between clenched teeth. His two simple hopes were they were merely opportune robbers, and that they did not realize Will was not alone here in the smithy. He was trying to be quiet. He didn't want them waking Elizabeth and putting her in the danger of coming in here to help him.

"Ah, boy…" another voice, sinister and low came from the shadows beyond the makeshift hood. "What have you got to offer, hmm? What will you give us to leave your strumpet where she sleeps?" Will's blood boiled at the suggestion that Elizabeth was nothing more than a whore.

"Release me and put a sword in my hand, and we'll see how far you get." Will spat out his frustration as he issued the challenge to the men who held him captive and helpless to defend his love from harm. He began to struggle again, his desperation to keep Elizabeth safe overriding common sense.

"What sort of idiots do you take us for, boy? We're pirates, not gentlemen. Bring him; he's had his fun with the governor's whore of a daughter. It's time to go, lads."

Something hard and metallic struck the back of Will's head, driving him to his knees in the hard-packed earth of the smithy. As the blackness raced up to swallow him whole, he felt a grim, bitter irony that they'd used the hilt of one of his own swords to strike him down.


	3. Squaring With It

Norrington was awakened at dawn by a persistent knocking at his door. As the _Eradicator_ was not to set sail for two more days, he found the waking inconvenient and unwanted. Struggling into a pair of breeches, and pulling a loose shirt over his head, he went to answer the door murmuring words that some of the crustier sailors could be heard spouting on bad days, when the lines wouldn't tie off just right, or the sails refused to roll properly. However, his irritation melted away like mist in the sun when it turned out to be Elizabeth Turner standing on his doorstep. 

"Elizabeth…what?" sublimating his shock wasn't immediately accomplished, and his surprise at seeing her there only seemed to provoke her further. Elizabeth swallowed harshly and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Something has happened to Will." She announced in a flat voice. He knew that tone, she was either very angry, or truly about to cry, and he was distressed to realize that her tears were the last thing he wanted right now.

"Is he ill? Elizabeth, what has happened? I can't help if you don't tell me what's going on." Of course, if Will were sick, why would she be coming to Norrington, of all people? He was a military man to a fault, and he while he knew his job and did it well, he admitted in quiet moments when he had time to think that he was somewhat limited by his choice of careers.

"He's gone!" the young woman shoved a crumpled note into his hands and Norrington took it reflexively, smoothing the distressed paper between his fingers before reading through it. His frown deepened with every word, and he read it twice, simply not believing what was laid before him.

"That doesn't sound like Mr. Turner at all."

Her lips pressed together, Elizabeth presented her next piece of evidence, a small leather bound book that was marked carefully and meticulously in the place she held it open. "I am certain that he didn't write it. I brought his shop logs so that you could see the difference in penmanship." Norrington's puzzled frown only deepened at her words, and he could not deny the small stab of unhappiness that went through him. After all he had given up for her, she still didn't trust that he had her best interests in mind.

"I would trust Will even without your proof, Elizabeth. I may be the only man on this island who does, but I know Mr. Turner to be a man of his word, and he swore an oath to you, that he would take care of you. Allow me a few moments to make myself more presentable, and I'll send for Lt. Gillette. We'll get to the truth of this soon enough." In the pit of his stomach, however, James was already nurturing a few suspicions of his own.

* * *

The fisherman he had hired to keep an eye on the _Sunlight Dreamer, _the ship that had carried the ill-fitting crew that Governor Swann had released on their word was waiting for Commodore Norrington when he arrived at the fort. He had not had time to summon Gillette, but Elizabeth stood back, her expression inscrutable as the two men spoke together.

"Is the ship gone?" Norrington questioned without preamble, studying the gnarled old man intently.

"Just as you say, sir…the gents you asked me to look after escorted a drunk friend on board before first light and made sail not long after. I thought it was a might suspicious that they would leave before the tide turned, sir, and before the sun had a proper bearing in the sky, so I came here straight away."

"Did you happen to see the face of their drunken companion, Mr. Andrews?"

"No sir, he had a hat pulled down to his eyes and his head was lolling forward. I just thought he had taken too much of the drink at the wedding, or something, and didn't pay him any account. Should I have?"

"Is it possible that it was the smith, Mr. Turner, which they took aboard the ship?"

"I really couldn't place a wager on that, Commodore; I've never really marked the smith, to know him from the front or back. They were laughing and boisterous, however, as though they'd been at the tavern more than long enough, so again, I paid it no mind, other than to think I should tell you of their unusual early leaving."

"Very well, you may go; here are the five guineas I promised you." Norrington paid the man for his watch work and turned to regard Elizabeth. To her credit, she was not merely standing there, wringing her hands in her helplessness. She was priming a pistol.

"What do you think you are doing, Mrs. Turner?"

"You have eyes; don't ask for obvious answers, Commodore." She didn't like that he'd relinquished the right to address her by her first name. He was acting far too uptight and official to her liking, and it didn't bode well for her continued involvement in current affairs, no matter that they were linked directly to her missing husband.

"While none here would dare dispute your ability to take care of yourself and your husband, I would advise against doing anything rash that might bring him more harm than help. We don't know why these men have taken Will and until we know more we cannot act in haste." Her chin came up, stubborn and headstrong were words that he could apply to her, and still be kind… but only if he used them sparingly.

"Why were you watching those men?" Norrington sighed, that was a question that he had hoped to avoid having to answer.

"They sailed in the day before the wedding and were poking about in sections of the port sailors don't generally go…leastwise not the honest ones. I collected them with a unit of marines and brought them in for questioning, but your father ordered them released on their word as honest tradesmen."

"My father… my father is behind this somehow, I know it."

"I would not jump to conclusions, Elizabeth. None of that crew bore the pirate brand; he really had no cause to hold them in all fairness."

"But you mistrusted them enough to post a watch on them. I feel we must speak to father at once. He _knows_ something."

"Very well, going on the supposition that he was behind this, as absurd as the charge seems to be, why would he do this, Elizabeth? If he meant to keep you and Will apart, he would have arranged for him to be removed before the wedding ceremony, don't you think? He would not wish for there to be any question of your virtue, if he meant to arrange another match for you."

"My father can be a trusting fool, James. If he made a bargain with them to get rid of Will before any dishonor came to me, he would expect them to abide by it."

"And being pirates, if that is what they were, and this is all not some fancy supposition on our parts, it would amuse them to no end if Will did what men do with their wives, when they are alone. That truth leads us to the next piece of this puzzle, as it stands. Why separate you at all, after the vows have been said? You are William Turner's wife by law, and in the eyes of God." James watched her face wash of color as she clenched her jaw tightly, perhaps resisting the urge to scream or rail, he did not know…and more and more often there was a great deal he was willing to admit he did not know about the Governor's beautiful daughter. But Will did…he understood her perfectly. However, none of this helped him at the moment, because Will was ultimately the source of her distress, whether he meant to be or not.

"Because," she answered and her voice was tight with a towering rage that could almost be felt, like the first stirrings of a storm wind against his face. James had to resist the urge to turn into it, to savor its coming. "Because father is the one who found the Spaniard that performed the ceremony when we could not find Father Patrick. James… what if the vows are false?"

"If that is so, then your father has much to answer for."

* * *

Commodore Norrington did not want Elizabeth to be right in suspecting her father's involvement in Will's disappearance, but the evidence was mounting against him as they arrived at the mansion to discover that, quite against habit, he was already awake and presentable.

Weatherby Swann smiled uncertainly as they were shown into the drawing room, his daughter and the man he had once hoped to call son.

"Elizabeth? What are you doing here this morning? I would have thought you would be at breakfast with your husband at this hour." Taken at face value, the questions and statement seemed innocent enough. If Elizabeth had come alone to see her father, he might have managed to deceive her into believing him, but James Norrington had been dealing with accomplished liars for many years, and he recognized the falsehood as soon as it was out of Governor Swann's mouth.

"I once accused William Turner of forgetting his place," James interrupted quietly, before Elizabeth could respond to the question. "But the more I think about what I said to him that day, the more I realize that I was the one who had forgotten mine." He studied the governor's face intently, never looking away as he spoke. "I have known no other man who would have the courage to stand up for what he believed in, even if it meant facing the gallows himself. That, Governor Swann, is what honor is. You don't have to be noble by birth to possess such a thing, and men will look up to him for what he did that day. They'll remember him for his deeds, not who his father was. You may as well confess your part in this. Lying will only make matters worse." When Weatherby spoke, it was not to James, but to Elizabeth.

"I only wanted what was best for you, Elizabeth."

"What you think is best for me, or what is truly best, father?" her voice was tight, still angry, and Norrington found he could not blame her for feeling that way.

"All of your life, I have made sure you had everything you could ever want. Anything you asked me for was yours, if it were within my means to give it."

"I never asked you for anything, father, you merely assumed that I wanted everything you gave me. The one thing I really wanted, the only thing I've ever asked for, you've denied me. I love Will, nothing you do or say will change that. He's the one I chose, for myself. He's the one I swore myself to yesterday, in front of all of those people, and I did it without shame, because he may be 'just a blacksmith' to you, but he is a good man, a fine man, and it is well past time you gave him credit for what he has accomplished as a smith for Port Royal. If people want a fine blade made, they go to Will Turner. Did you even know he's been branching out to silversmith? I imagine you didn't. You don't care to know anything about him, because he's just an inconvenience to you."

"Elizabeth!" his shocked exclamation of her name cut her off, in mid-tirade, but there was to be no stopping her stream of vitriol, having finally found the voice and the words she needed to tell her father exactly what she thought of his treatment of her husband.

"No, father! You will listen to what I have to say for once, instead of nodding your head and pretending that it will all pass, if you give it enough time. I'm going home now, and when the _Eradicator_ sails in two days, I will be aboard, because I want my husband back!"

"You will go to your room this instant, young woman, and you will consider the propriety of your actions. Soon enough the town will be talking about him being gone…they'll be whispering about why he left, and we'll need to put on a good face, and.."

"I am returning to the smithy, father."

"You are my daughter, you will do as I say!"

"No…that's where you're wrong. I am Mrs. William Turner, and I must _do_ nothing of the sort."

"You're not his wife, the Spaniard who married you wasn't a priest."

"That makes no difference to me. When we find Will, I'll correct the issue of validity. Commodore Norrington, would you be so kind as to escort me home?"

"Of course, Mrs. Turner." James was glad, in a way, that she had said what she had. It would help her to know that she had spoken her mind, just as it would help Governor Swann understand how badly he had underestimated his daughter and her affections for the missing blacksmith. Time would tell if they could ever make peace. Without another word to the governor, who simply stood there, mouth agape, as Commodore Norrington led his daughter from the mansion, James offered her his arm and stepped politely at her pace, falling into the role of escort quite naturally.

* * *

It took the remainder of that day, and all of the following to complete the refitting and restocking of the _Eradicator_, in preparation for another long journey. In the interim, gossip began to spread, just as Governor Swann had predicted, leaping from home to home through Port Royal township that the young blacksmith had abandoned his young bride on his wedding night. Thankfully, Commodore Norrington, Elizabeth and the unfortunate Governor Swann were the only three that knew the entire truth of the false priest. He had disappeared with the ship that had taken Will away.

Elizabeth took the mutterings and the pointing fingers with admirable restraint, ignoring the whispers as best she could while attending to the tasks that Norrington had set her to. In truth, he would not have had her do anything at all, but he reckoned that staying busy was likely more preferable than having nothing to occupy her aside from thoughts on the fate of her young man.

Whenever James happened to catch her looking at him, it made him writhe inwardly to bear witness to the blind faith that dominated her expression; faith in him and his ability to keep his word that they would find Will and bring him safely home. He prayed frequently that he would not let her down in this.

Several times, Governor Swann sent a messenger to beg her to attend him at the mansion for tea or dinner to talk, and every time her rebuffs consisted of only one word; No. James wisely chose not to make an attempt at mending the rift between them, because Elizabeth needed someone on her side, and he was willing to fill that role for her. That he admired her spirit was inarguable, never once did she give in to the weakness of tears…at least, not where anyone might witness her weeping.

The sailors were stowing the last bundles of supplies below decks when the claxon bell began ringing on the cliff side above the port.

"Sail ho! Sail ho!" the watch commander was shouting rather frantically, and pointing out toward sea. Norrington found this absurdly amusing for some reason; it was not possible for a ship to approach from any other direction, after all. However, the man's panicked reaction to whatever he had seen spurred the Commodore into a trot to gain some ground so that he might better witness what the cause of all the commotion was. When he was suitably elevated, he turned and looked out into the harbor, keen eyes raking over the clean, sleek lines of the ship that was just now furling her sails as she eased into the mouth of the inlet. Everything made perfect sense, for there was no possible way to mistake that ship, having seen it before. "Damnation, it's the _Black Pearl_." Some of the more high-strung females with a clear view of the port began shrieking and one intrepid young woman had the audacity to faint into the arms of her beau as Norrington resumed his upward jog.

A better vantage afforded him a view of the entire ship as she made her ponderous way toward the docks, deceptively slow, and he realized that she was flying a white flag, devoid of any sort of symbol or device. Whatever other intentions the crew of the _Black Pearl_ might have, they had come here in terms of peace. Even as he marveled at their audacity in coming here at all, he had to admire their courage in venturing into a port that boasted the strongest naval presence in all of the Caribbean. Drawing a deep breath and letting it out, he began to direct the troop of men who came in a mad dash down from the fort to defend the town in keeping the citizenry calm as he allowed the ship to finish her traverse. "You've got bloody horrible timing, Captain Sparrow," he muttered darkly, before resolving to go and meet with the disreputable man himself. Lt. Gillette tended to be rather enthusiastic, and this was not the place or time to clap the most infamous pirate in the Caribbean in irons once more.

* * *

By the time Norrington made his way to the correct dock, there was already a situation brewing. Lt. Gillette, in his zeal to do the job right, had attempted to place Captain Sparrow and his entire crew under arrest. The small patrol of soldiers had swiftly become surrounded by grim looking men, with a green and gold parrot screeching such perilous things as; "Dead men tell no tales!" which did nothing to relieve the naval men's minds as to their fate, should the gathering continue down the path of its current mood.

If it had been any other moment…any other day, Norrington would not have lost his restraint so completely as to actually laugh aloud at the sight, drawing shocked and outraged looks from his subordinates. Whatever he had intended to say was thrown to the winds with the sound of running feet. James would have doubted Elizabeth's ability to run so quickly in a corset until he observed that she had donned the plain attire of a working maid, bonnet and all.

"Jack!"

Equally amusing was Sparrow's startled expression as Elizabeth flung herself into his arms. Gillette was still being held, arms behind his back, as another man attempted to pry his mouth open while Jack spoke. Jack himself was left to awkwardly pat at the girl in his arms, trying to comfort her with his usual witty self, thinking of something on the fly to say to her. As it turned out, what he said couldn't have been more poorly chosen.

"Now, Elizabeth, darling…I told you it would never work between us. What would dear William think?" To everyone's surprise, Jack's most of all, the distraught young woman burst into tears. When Jack looked over her head and met Norrington's watchful gaze, there was none of the deliberate madness that seemed to dominate his every waking moment.

"It would appear, Commodore that I've missed a great deal. Come now, Miss Swann…or is it Mrs. Turner now? Let's get you settled in to rest while your bloody friend Norrington relates events to Captain Jack."

"Mr. Sparrow-…" Norrington began, only to be cut short in his address.

"Captain…Captain Sparrow."

"Very well, _Captain_ Sparrow, would you be so kind as to order your men back to your ship until arrangements can be made for their safe passage ashore? Also…could you have that man release Lt. Gillette? I'm sure he likes his tongue where it is."

As James watched the men, Jack turned to look at them each in turn and without a word, they began to disperse back to the _Black Pearl_, leaving a ruffled Lt. Gillette behind to straighten his uniform and gather his wounded pride. There was no doubt in Norrington's mind that Jack had the absolute respect that any captain needed to maintain order aboard his vessel, and off it, as the case may be.

"Let's escort Mrs. Turner back to the smithy, shall we? I trust you know the way, Captain Sparrow?" Turning on his heel, Commodore Norrington set off at a smart pace, without bothering to see if Jack would be quick to follow.

* * *

It took them a little while to get Elizabeth settled, but finally she was sleeping in the only bed, curled up around blankets that still bore Will's scent faintly. It was the only comfort she could claim at the moment. Norrington and Jack withdrew to the smithy proper, the tools of Will's trade still scattered about, though the forge had been cold for three days. Jack picked up one of Will's hammers, roughly the same size and shape as the one he'd tried to break his irons with some two years before.

"You know something," Norrington began without preamble.

"Everyone knows something, mate. It's how much you know, and what use it's put to that makes the difference." Jack had reverted back to his usual antics and Norrington wanted to throttle him with his sash. Letting out a snort of disgust, he turned away for a moment to collect himself.

"Do you know the men who took Will Turner?"

"No, can't say as I do. I've been…a bit behind on the game, as it were, and came straight here from my last long stay somewhere unpleasant."

"And where would that be?"

"Now why would I be telling you that, Commodore? It should be enough for you that I'm willing to take you and the bonnie lass to where William _will_ be, in a fortnight's time."

"Do you know where he is, then?"

"Ahh, no. But as I said, I know where he will be, and that is a grand sight better, don't you think?"

"Well then why are we still here? The _Eradicator_ is ready to sail, we could have been gone with the tide."

"No mate, you know as well as I do that the _Black Pearl_ is the fastest ship in these waters, if you want to make any time at all, you and young Mrs. Turner will be joining me on _my_ ship, not t'other way around. Besides…I don't trust you not to make me stay in the brig on that trim little navy ship of yours."

"And you expect me to believe that I'll see any better treatment?"

"You have my word as an honest man. Come now, Commodore, have you ever known me to do anything remotely…piratical? It's all stories," Jack leaned in for emphasis, "just don't tell anyone, savvy?" Jack circled around James in his immaculate navy uniform. "Nonono, this won't do at all. You need a better disguise if you're going to blend in."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You may beg it, but that doesn't mean you'll get it. You can't go sailing into a den of pirates looking like their worst enemy, now can you?"

"So we're going to Tortuga?" Norrington deduced by simple extrapolation.

"I didn't say that, did I? Stop putting words in me mouth."

"Very well then, if you would be so good as to outline a plan, I'll consider it with the same care I would one of my own. No tricks, Jack Sparrow; you're in enemy territory, you'd do well to remember the only grace you have is Elizabeth Turner. I will make arrangements for certain accords on your behalf, but that's as far as it goes."

"Look, Commodore, I know you don't like me, there's no surprise to that, but things are very delicate right now. I know for a fact that William is in no danger at the moment, but things could change, if the scalawags who took him figure they're being followed by official sorts. So listen to me plan before you go throwing threats around."

And as James listened, Jack explained the basics of what he meant to do.

* * *

When Will woke, it was completely dark and it took his befuddled brain a few moments to untangle itself enough to register the blindfold that covered his eyes. The swaying of the 'ground' beneath his shoulders told him easily that he was no longer land-bound, accompanied by the rhythmic creaking of a ship at sea.

Groaning softly, Will made the attempt to move his shoulders into a more comfortable position, but was hampered by the knowledge that his hands were bound behind his back. Relying solely on his ears, Will noted the sound of someone moving nearby, and he did his best to cringe back when something cool and metallic was placed against his lips, until he realized it was a cup, and there was fresh water in it. Desperate to ease his parched mouth, Will drank greedily.

"Easy now, lad…don't choke yourself," came the gruff admonition from whoever held the cup. "I was beginning to think Jonesy might have hit you a little too hard, that maybe you wouldn't be waking up at all, you've been out of it for three days running."

"Why am I still tied…why am I blindfolded, I'm in the belly of the ship, it's not like I could see where we're going." Will tried to clear his throat, since his voice was still raspy from disuse.

"Ah, there's the rub, Captain told us to keep you bound and blind, lad, because he heard tell you're a mite bit dangerous with a sword, and if you can see one, chances are you'd make a grab for it, wouldn't ye?"

"I've been kidnapped by the lot of you, why should I not try and defend myself?" Will asked stiffly, annoyed that his reputation finally preceded him at the worst possible time. "Who is your captain?" and then a beat later, "I wish to parlay."

"There will be no bargains, boy, but I imagine you can talk to the captain if you like."

"Is he the one that called my wife a strumpet? If he is, there are more than a few things I have to say to him." Will's cheeks flushed at the indignity of being blind to everything around him. He thought he'd felt helpless when they first trapped him, but it would appear that there were worse things, and this was one of them. Just as soon as he experienced the embarrassment, however, the feeling went away, because he didn't have the energy to sustain it.

"I wouldn't know anything about that, boy. I wasn't in the little party as went to collect you that last night in Port Royal."

"Please…could you give me more water before you go? I don't know why I'm so thirsty."

"Could be the fever you've had since we nabbed you, comes and goes, it does, but it's still there. Your face is flush even now, and I don't think it's your temper as is doing it, boy… the ship's surgeon, for what he's worth, doesn't know what's wrong with you, and it's making a few of the men nervous that it might be catching."

"I've never been sick a day in my life," Will protested, but even he had to admit that the possibility existed, especially as cold sweat began to bead along his forehead and he shivered involuntarily as a chill crept over him. With his hands behind his back it was hard for him to be certain, but he was overcome with the sinking sensation that the ring Elizabeth had put on his finger was no longer there.

"Where is the ruby ring that was on my hand? Where is my wedding band…sir?" he felt that maybe being polite would get a better answer, perhaps.

"Not sure what you're talking about lad, nobody took a ruby ring from you. Captain has a pretty emerald that he took a fancy to, after we had you safe aboard the ship, but there was no ruby anywhere on your person." Will felt the sinking feeling deepen considerably at those words, and he tilted his head in the direction he was certain the pirate was in.

"I need to speak to your captain…and I need to see the ring. There may be a curse." Which would mean that since it had been a ruby when Elizabeth put it on his hand, and the captain had possession of an emerald, he was the one cursed. Unexpectedly, the man attending to him clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Be careful, boy…don't be saying that word too loudly, or the crew will be even quicker in their suggestions to dump you over the side. We've been paid to deliver you to Trinidad, I'd really rather we got you there safely, as there's someone there expecting you, y'see."

Of course, the man's insistence, and his answers only succeeded in raising even more questions in Will's mind, but perhaps speaking to the captain would satisfy his need to know what was going on. The shuffling sounds of the man walking off to fetch the captain were the last thing Will heard as the waking world relinquished its hold on him and he fell asleep once more.


	4. Foam and Tide

Summary: Now that'd be telling, wouldn't it? Read on!

Disclaimer: Captain Jack Sparrow, Commodore James Norrington, Will Turner, Elizabeth Turner, Bootstrap Bill and everyone else I've turned to my own use do not belong to me. I'm not selling this story, I'm merely writing for my own enjoyment. Please don't sue me, I haven't got anything worth your while anyway.

scarlettxoxo: Thank you for the review, it's nice to know that I'm not so completely delusional as I had first believed, when I began writing this tale. Sorry it's taken me so long to post chapter 3, I've been struggling with a few key passages at work, and I shall update as often as is earthly possible, with working a six day week, and balancing a family when I'm _not_ working my butt off.

* * *

Elizabeth gave in to the urge and slapped Jack soundly across the face. To give him a nod, he didn't even flinch when he saw it coming; though he did turn his head to somewhat soften the blow as it landed. The captain's cabin was blessedly quiet in the aftermath of her small explosion of temper, and he simply stood there for a moment, regarding her.

"I'm nearly positive I didn't deserve that," he remarked offhandedly, drawing a confused frown from his attacker.

"What?"

Jack began to stroll a wide circle around her, or as wide a one as could be afforded by the cramped space of being below decks. It all seemed so familiar to the girl that she had to force back the need to shiver, and thank all that was holy that the _Black Pearl_ was once more very firmly in the hands of her proper master.

"S' a private joke, lass, don't worry about it." And the look on his face did more to convince her to hold her tongue against further prodding for answers for the time being than the verbal request had. "But I do have to ask why you slapped me, since I can't say I understand your reasoning… but then again, women always did leave me feeling somewhat befuddled, if you will." Pouring another glassful of rum, he took a generous drink of it.

"That! The drinking, your seeming lack of concern for where we are going, or what you intend to have us do when we arrive. Your insistence on keeping me uninformed of every single aspect of whatever is going on in that…" she lost her ability to speak for a moment, she was so incensed, and Jack merely stood there, peering at her in the way that one might regard a particularly fascinating insect that one had never seen before, perhaps wondering if it might sting if provoked. "Beneath that ridiculous bandana of yours!"

"You haven't asked me anything and as far as I know, you haven't asked dear Jimmy anything, or he probably would have come to me asking if he should _tell_ you, savvy? So I don't feel that the slap was quite so warranted as all that, even if you really felt the need to hit something, because you're angry." Elizabeth began to realize that Jack was actually sounding sulky, and it was a new perspective for her.

"I'm not going to apologize." She remarked tartly, her chin set at an angle which brooked no argument for those who knew her. But then again, Jack freely admitted in his own mind that he did not know her very well, despite the occasional companionship they had shared over the past two years, and he realized that a great deal of what they had in common was the missing blacksmith. It left him feeling a little out of sorts, in the grand scheme of things.

"That's your prerogative, Mrs. Turner," he responded, "But since you haven't bothered to ask, I'll tell you anyway, we're sailing for Trinidad, and should be there in…" he tilted his head up, as though consulting some internal calendar or calculation that only he was privy to. "Nine days, if the weather holds."

More prophetic words were never spoken, as there came a knock on the cabin door. Anamaria stuck her head around the jamb after wrenching the door open without further preamble, and regarded the pair of them with dark, laughing eyes. "Don't tell me you were stupid enough to proposition her?" Jack realized that the fading red of Elizabeth's handprint must still be visible on his cheek, and he took another deep swallow of rum to bolster his sense of pride.

"What is it, Anamaria?"

"Just so happens, Captain, that there's a storm brewing ahead, a rather nasty blow by the look of things. Gibbs is suggesting we make port at an island off to the north a bit, he's fairly sure he recognizes it, and it'll be safer than trying to sail through it." Jack sighed, and studied the tops of his boots for a moment, not wanting to see Elizabeth's face, and the disappointment that must surely dominate her expression.

"Fetch Jimmy for me, would you? I'll need to speak to him about what he thinks is the better course of action. We may have to sail through it whether we will or no."

"Aye, he'll be here shortly." The dark woman assured, before withdrawing as swiftly as she'd come. Jack finally looked up to see Elizabeth frowning, and he steeled himself, fully prepared for another slap.

"It's almost as though the weather is against us too." She said softly, more to herself than him. She absently untied the apron string that secured the garment behind her back, before retying it, more loosely than before. "I think I'm going to go up and get some air, there's really no point in me taking your time up any further."

"Elizabeth, wait…" he wasn't sure exactly why he spoke up at all. Bitter experience had taught him that playing things close to the vest was the far better course of action than telling her everything she might want to know, his first harsh lesson had ended in him being marooned on that Godforsaken spit of land that he and Elizabeth had become intimately acquainted with, he remembered how short a time it had taken her to walk the circumference of it.

She paused near the door, her hand hovering over the latch. She had left her hair down today, though while on deck she'd adapted the habit of tying it back in a ribbon so that it was less likely to become tangled by the wind. Whatever feelings she might have on being separated from her blacksmith rarely visited her face, but her eyes gave everything away, whenever any of the crew members could stand to meet them. It was a sorrow so deep that it made you want to hurt yourself to make it stop, and Jack knew that feeling all too well.

"We'll see that no harm comes to him, you know. The man that hired him kidnapped is a bit misguided in his method, but his intentions are among the noblest."

"How do you know that, Mr. Sparrow? How do you know what this man means to do with Will?"

"Because it's his father, Bill Turner is alive and well, and living on Trinidad. He wants William, you see. He tried to hire the _Pearl_ to go and fetch him back…but the crew refused, and rightly so. Besides, I would really rather not have your friend Norrington hunting _me_ at the moment. He already has enough valid reasons without adding to them. Whoever was stupid enough to take on the job is going to be quite sorry when we catch up with them."

"Why would he take him? Why couldn't he just come and see him? He's ruined everything." She blinked back the beginnings of angry tears.

"Not yet, he hasn't. You'll see. We'll have this all set to rights in no time."

"We can't just sail through this, can we? It's going to delay us even further."

"It would be different if we didn't know where they were going, Elizabeth…and yes I would brave wind and water to see you reunited with your William, but as it stands, the _Black Pearl_ can no longer claim the assistance of any sort of supernatural alliance, and I don't care to risk taking damage by sailing blind through a storm and running aground on the reefs that seem so fond of making necklaces around these southern islands. I wish I could do better for you…I wish I could make better promises, but if wishes were ships, we'd all be on the sea."

Nodding her head, Elizabeth left the captain's cabin and felt the first pattering raindrops begin to fall as she crossed the deck. It was something of a relief for her, because the falling rain hid the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

* * *

Will woke again, but this time because someone was tugging roughly at the knots that secured the blindfold. Groggily, he opened his eyes, and had to squint because the candlelight seemed blazingly bright in comparison to the darkness he had become used to. The man standing above him was little more than a silhouette against the light. 

"Wake up boy, and get a drink of this water, here." Again, a cup was pressed to his mouth, and he drank from it as quickly as he could, until his desperate swallows led to the inevitable choking and gasping as he attempted to expel the water from his windpipe.

"What is going on?" he wheezed, when he'd managed to get the racking coughs under control. He thought he recognized the voice as that of the man who had been his companion in his waking moments for the past two days, but he could easily be mistaken.

"Captain wants you on deck, all available hands, as it were. We're trying to outrun a storm as has been creeping up our backsides for the last day and a half, and we'll need all the help we can get, if you can mind the rigging."

"You'll have to untie me." Will suggested rather tightly, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut as the man helped him stand, because the change in height made his head swim alarmingly.

"As easy said as done," the man replied, undoing the ropes that held Will's hands behind his back. Will gasped again as sensation began to return to starved tissue, and he began to think it was a wonder that his fingers hadn't begun to rot off from lack of circulation, as long as he'd been tied there. Of course, any thinking at all was something of a wonder, because his mind was playing skip stones, and wouldn't linger on any thought for more than a blink. Rubbing his wrists, he allowed the man to prod him in the right general direction of the hatchway, even the dull, threatening gray of a rain laden sky seemed too bright to him as he struggled up on deck.

"Here, mind the deck, boy… it's a bit slippery up here." And it was, since the rain was already falling in spates. It made the walk to where the captain waited a bit of an adventure all on its own.

Will finally stood before the captain of the _Sunlight Dreamer_ and disliked him immediately. For a beginning, he looked far too honest for the line of work that he'd undertaken. His hair was tied back neatly in a tail, despite the lashing rain, his beard was immaculately trimmed, in short everything about him depicted a gentleman, but Will knew better, a sense of malcontent settling around his spine. The man was, after all, wearing _Will's_ wedding band on his right hand. A closer inspection of the ring had Will's stomach clenching with a rising tide of nervousness. The stone was an emerald, just as his nameless caretaker had said.

"I would like my ring back," Will stated simply, with as much steel in his voice as he could muster, even feeling so completely wretched as he did. A laugh was the man's first response.

"I repeat, boy; we are pirates and not gentleman…no matter how genteel we may appear, and you will never see the ring or us again, once we have discharged our duties to the man who hired us to collect you." Curious words and Will filed them away. So far, his only clues were whoever had hired him kidnapped was on Trinidad, and the distant island was to be their eventual destination. While the man spoke derisively, Will took stock of those around them, in relation to where he stood, constantly shifting his weight between his feet to keep from falling on the deck as it heaved and rolled in the rising tumult of the sea.

"Now lad, as you can see, there is a storm approaching, and I could use your help in securing the rigging if we are all to reach Trinidad in one piece. Can you sail?"

In his head, Will heard the ghostly words of Jack Sparrow echoing back from the past. _'Can you sail under the command of a pirate, or can you not?' _In the end, he would never be able to pinpoint exactly what stabbing of pride made him brag about his past experiences.

"I have sailed with Captain Jack Sparrow of the _Black Pearl_. He taught me everything I know," Will lifted his chin, as though daring them to disagree with him. The statement was met with a surprised silence from the crewmates gathered around the pair, those that weren't busy tying down the sails and otherwise securing the vessel against the approaching storm. Will realized, even in the deep recesses of an illness-fogged mind, that this was some manner of ploy. The captain did not need another pair of hands at all, which made this nothing more than a test, though the blacksmith was damned if he could fathom just what the purpose of it was.

"Have you now?" Returned the slow, studied question from the captain, drawled in an unconcerned air as though he really could care less whether or not an affirmative was given. Will would have answered, he meant to answer, but the deck pitched beneath his feet sharply as the storm began to catch them up. It was the opportunity he had been waiting for; as he was thrown into a nearby crewmember, Will's fingers closed knowledgeably around the hilt of the sword at the man's belt, and he recognized the weapon instinctively as one that he had made. Pulling it free in one smooth motion, he further shoved the man aside and lunged at the pirate captain without warning. Jack would have been very proud that his protégé had at last learned it was not always the time to follow rules of engagement…or to encourage fair fights. Will knew he would only have one chance at this, with so many enemies surrounding him.

Unfortunately, Will was still weak from the fever that had wracked him intermittently almost from the moment he'd been kidnapped, and his reflexes were dulled by it, so that his only achievement was in cutting a vicious line across the captain's cheek as the dandy retreated with a hasty scrambling of feet. There was nothing graceful at all in the scuffle between them, as he reacted by backhanding Will across the face, sending the blacksmith reeling to his knees on the slippery deck, the sword he'd been holding clattered some distance away, flung wide in the shock of the blow. This was certainly not going as he had planned.

Men scurried forward, dragging Will back to his feet and pinning his arms to his sides to keep him from essaying further harm to their erstwhile commander as he spit oaths that would have made Will's ears burn under any other circumstances.

"You're going to pay for that, boy." The pirate growled, wiping streaming blood from his face as it mingled with the spraying rain. "You're going to pay for that dearly." At his sharp gesture, the men holding Will between them forced him back to his knees roughly, one of them even going so far as to kick his feet out from under him once more.

Will didn't care…the gnawing hopelessness of his situation having gotten the better of common sense and all he wanted was some manner of resolution. Whatever the test had been, he suspected he failed it miserably. Will glared at the captain as he closed the distance between them once more, drawing out a belt knife as he came.

"Hold his head, I don't want to mess up too badly while I'm cutting his face." The captain snarled. One of the men who'd been standing to Will's right, a meaty hand clamped over his shoulder to keep him down flinched, squeezing hard enough to make the bone ache, but thankfully only for a breath of time.

"Captain…we weren't supposed to hurt him." The man said uncertainly, offering a verbal argument to what was coming. Will admitted a small fraction of surprise that someone might take up his side, but it passed quickly. "The bargain was to deliver him to Trinidad to the Governor…"

"I don't recall having my face cut open being any part of the bargain we made, Brannigan. Hold your tongue, or you'll be next." Brannigan didn't do anything to further the deliberate maiming, but he didn't attempt to stop it, either. Someone to Will's left; he didn't know who, because they were still standing behind him, caught his head and twisted it so that his left cheek was exposed to the captain's knife.

"Nobody cuts me and gets away with it." The captain hissed as he brought the blade down, cutting in a smooth motion from Will's temple to his chin, barely missing his eye. Will clamped his teeth down over his lower lip, refusing to cry out in the sudden, burning agony that followed the tip of the knife down his face. Warmth began to flow from the injury, and Will had to blink away the sticky wetness beading in his lashes. "Have David stitch him up, it's not that deep." the pirate captain spoke again, after admiring his handiwork, "And tell Jonesy we're charting a new course…for Tortuga this time, and the Faithful Bride. Someone will buy him, even with the dashing new look I've just given him."

"But what of our bargain, Captain? We've already been paid…" Brannigan tried again to be the voice of reason in the madness that seemed to have taken over the entire crew. Will just worked on remembering how to breathe as someone else he did not know began to attend to the cut, even going so far as to pour what smelled distinctly like rum into the open wound to help sterilize it. Will gasped as it stung him, his nails digging wet furrows into the wood beneath his fingertips.

"I've changed my mind, the sooner we're rid of the whelp, the better. I don't care if he ends up on a slaver ship bound for China, so long as he has a good long time to think on how he got himself there. Get him out of my sight, David, I've had enough of the wretch!" Will was again hoisted to his feet, and then dragged back toward the hatchway he had originally been led from. He suspected this time the darkness would be a lasting thing.

* * *

Norrington felt distantly that there was no love lost between the crew of the _Black Pearl_ and himself. He even understood it on several levels. After all, he had probably hanged friends, if not actual family members of many of these men. However, he'd tried to make the best of it by showing the utmost respect for the ship…and her madcap captain, even if sometimes he had to do it through gritted teeth. 

In an effort to be more accommodating to him, the crew had started calling him Jimmy, despite all of his best efforts to retain his proper name, James. He held with the suspicion that they were under orders from Sparrow himself, but since there was no proof, an accusation would probably be laughed off.

Now however, he found himself walking down the rain-sodden beach with Mr. Gibbs, and he was faced with the realization that he did not know what to say to the former navy man. Gamely, he attempted conversation anyway,

"So, you…er, like working for Captain Sparrow?" this stumbling over vocabulary made him feel awkward and irritable. He was always good at having the right thing to say while dealing with all sorts of scum and villainy, but Mr. Joshamee Gibbs did not actually fit into that particular mold…well, not that James had actually witnessed, and there appeared to be no mark to indicate that he was, indeed, of the worst sort of pirate; those that got themselves caught at it.

"I love the sea, Commodore; working with Jack just makes it possible to be with her more than I am on the land." If he had given any other answer, James would not have been half as likely to believe him, but there was an honesty in his words that was undeniable. James knew all too well that the siren call of the sea could not be denied once it took root in the heart of a seaman.

"But why would you choose this life of villainy?" He needed to understand the mentality which drove Gibbs, indeed, drove them all to pursue their livelihood in spite of the threat of persecution by the crown.

"You can't ask that question without getting a slanted answer back, Commodore." Of all the men, Gibbs was the one most inclined to continue to call him by his proper rank, and stick to formality in doing so, when speaking to the navy man. "Let me ask you a question instead. If I were to steal a loaf of bread, that would be a crime to the likes of you, yes?"

"Of course, since you didn't pay for it."

"But what if I found myself without work, sudden like, and with no way to find more right away, and my wife and wee children was starving to death? What if that loaf of bread made the difference between them living and dying? Wouldn't the greater crime then be in letting my woman and babes die?" James turned the scenario over in his head, giving it serious thought. He had never considered himself a hasty man in the past, and now was not the time or place to start a new trend in an undesirable direction.

"I suppose if reparations were made for the loaf of bread after you had some coin to your name, the ends could justify the means in such a circumstance." James fixed Gibbs with a stern eye. "But don't think that means I agree with piracy to the letter of it's definition, just because the motivation might be more noble than one could immediately grasp at first look." Gibbs stopped and stared at the military man, as though he couldn't quite believe that his arguments weren't getting through…or maybe he was simply considering how best to drive the point home. He gestured toward the ground, and Norrington realized that the reason they had paused here was because they'd found the fresh water that Jack had sent them out for.

"Nobody starts out wanting to be a pirate, Commodore, but you have to put the food on the table someways, even if the avenue isn't a pretty one. And for quite a few of these men, this was the only choice open to them."

"But you served in the navy yourself…"

"Aye, I did. And when the Navy was in large part released from service, I couldn't imagine a life away from the sea. So I took to the drink to forget what I was missin'. Jack saved me from myself, so you might be saying I owe him quite a bit more than I've given him, so far. As for yourself…you love the sea. What would you do if it were suddenly denied you? What if you had not two pennies to rub together in your name? Think about it, man…might change your whole outlook." Norrington watched as Gibbs knelt on the ground beside the burbling stream that they'd come to and filled the flask he kept at his side with water. So much for that particular illusion. Gibbs winked as he rose to his feet. "Don't tell nobody, it would ruin my image completely."

"You have my word," James promised.

"Right then. We should organize some of the lads to setting some water to heating. The ladies will probably be wanting a bath about now."

* * *

"You are, by far, one of the most notorious pirates in all the Caribbean, yet you sail with the most ethical pirate crew I've ever had the misfortune to run across. How is it that you manage to keep such a reputation in light of that?" The question was an interesting one, and Jack Sparrow found it admirable that James Norrington, Commodore, had the guts to ask it, considering he was lying flat on his back on the floor with Jack's sword at his throat, keeping him pinned there with very little chance of moving. 

The entire situation was enough to drag a fox-like grin across the captain's mouth briefly, because this was just too rich to be believed. With a practiced flick of his ankle, Jack kicked Norrington's blade up and into his hand from where it had fallen to the floor when he knocked the Commodore off his feet upon stepping inside the captain's cabin. It was flawlessly made, and Jack felt the faint stirrings of jealousy that James was in possession of one of Will's finest works.

"I should probably warn you not to be coming into me private quarters without any sort of warning whatsoever."

"Thank you, I do appreciate the advice," Norrington responded drolly from his prostrate position on the floor. "I don't suppose you'd let me up now?" Jack was kind enough to not only release Norrington from the awkward position, but also to sheathe his sword, before offering the naval officer a hand up. He was surprisingly strong for such a compact man.

"What is it you're wanting in here, Jimmy?" Jack began circling Norrington again, enough to set his teeth on edge, even more than the stupid nickname.

"It's James, and stop that, you're like a shark waiting for a lucky break."

"I just wanted to get a good look at your clothes, mate. You look surprisingly just like anyone else on this ship," With a friendly leer, Jack added, "Now that you've lost that ridiculous wig that the navy seems to be so fond of, that is."

James could not decide whether he should be amused or insulted, so he chose humor as the better route to not picking a fight with Jack. They had plenty enough reasons to argue, without starting something over such a trivial matter as his choices in attire. He smiled, meaning to indicate that he took no offense at the jibe.

"Whether you like it or not, and since we both know that I am in no way thrilled by this little venture of yours, you're stuck with me. I don't care if my sole purpose on this ship is to ensure Elizabeth Turner's safety."

"She'd not come to any harm on my ship, Commodore." Jack bristled, certain that Norrington was questioning the actions of the crew, most of them hand-picked by Sparrow himself. Confound it, how often was he going to have to prove himself to this strutting peacock of a man, with his high-toned ideals and fancy to-dos? Norrington fixed him with a steady look.

"Do you honestly think that Elizabeth is going to sit here on your ship like a proper lady while you and I resolve things on her behalf? Come now, Captain Sparrow, this is _Elizabeth_ we're talking about, after all." Jack looked sulky, but then he'd invested a great deal of time and practice into perfecting the expression he now employed.

"Well…when you put it that way..."

"I know that Mr. Turner has been teaching her how to handle a sword, but two years of experience do not tally with a lifetime on the sea. She needs someone watching over her until we get William back."

"And I suppose you're volunteering yourself to be the one to do it?"

"You seem a bit busy for the job, Captain Sparrow. Need I remind you it is you who are in charge of this venture, and there are none else on the ship she trusts as much, I can vouch for my word on it."

Jack stepped forward, invading Norrington's personal space, a little too close for his comfort, and jabbed him sharply in the chest with one finger.

"I'm going to hold you to that oath, Commodore. Don't think for one moment I won't."

* * *

"Take the blindfold from his face, I want to see his eyes." Came the female voice to Will's ears, rousing him from the timeless state of nothing behind a blindfold. She sounded kind, but he was fairly certain that nothing in this place was as it seemed. The odor that pervaded everything with a faint miasma of too much rum and not enough free-flowing water was one that he remembered well. He recalled his promise to Jack that the 'sweet bouquet' of Tortuga would linger, and it had…oh, it had. He lifted his wrists and shook the chain that held him bound to the wooden post in protest, since he was also gagged, and couldn't very well offer any vocal argument. 

The blindfold was yanked free, and he was staring into the face of a lovely woman, painted to astounding beauty. However, the longer he looked, the more he saw the imperfections hidden by cosmetic artistry. She was older than he would have originally wagered, by nearly ten years, and he glared fiercely, hoping to dissuade her from the notion that she really wanted to pay good coin for an intractable slave.

She clicked her tongue at him in appreciation as she let her eyes rove lewdly over his form. He'd been stripped of his shirt, and was wearing what remained of the fine white breeches he'd been wedded to Elizabeth in; the sun was fiercely hot on his skin, making him feel far warmer than he had in the hold of the ship. He'd lost track of days sometime after the sixth, but at least the cut on his face had stopped hurting quite so much, and his fear of infection had passed, as David the ship's surgeon had attended to it frequently.

They'd oiled his skin to make him gleam like bronze before putting him up here on the block in front of the business most called the Faithful Bride. Here men could spend coin like water on women that would be bound to them by law…even if it were just pirate law; there wasn't much a girl could do once the ship she was on had cast anchor and sailed from land. Most learned to accept their lot in life, or died young.

"You _are_ a fine one, aren't you?" she said in an admiring tone, and whatever hope he had of turning her interest elsewhere was drained away from him with what remained of his strength. He was still wracked with the occasional fever, though David could find no cause for it, and his condition wasn't worsening noticeably, so they'd been ignoring it.

"He's in good health, Madame Bess," said the slaver in charge of the shop. "Young and strong, just as you like 'em. Got his face cut up a bit in a scuffle that didn't go in his favor, but it only adds to his charm, says I." he was talking a good pitch, and the only thing Will could accomplish was a solid mumble behind the gag tied at the back of his head. Frustration blazed like fire in his brown eyes; oh his hands itched to have a sword in them, so that he could rightly defend himself against all the madness sweeping around him in a whirlwind from which there seemed no escape.

"Yes, I can see that for myself, Lotter." She turned to a man hovering nearby, a well-muscled man with shocking red hair that couldn't be much older than Will, who was glaring at the young blacksmith with what seemed a close cousin to deep loathing. "Remove the gag, I would speak with him."

"Madame, that may not be a good idea, they say he's got quite the mouth on him." Her heartfelt chuckle was answer enough, and Will felt his hopes slipping another notch.

"Come now, Lotter. I spend my days on the sea surrounded by men who's language would blister your tongue, I want to speak with this boy." Grumbling, the slaver did as she asked, and Will worked his jaw, trying to restore moisture to his mouth as she looked him over again, appreciating the overall effect, now that his looks weren't hindered by the crude gag.

"I've been kidnapped from Port Royal." Will said, the first thing he could think of that might win him sympathy. She laughed again, more loudly and with more jollity, this time around. It was the final blow for his hopes, and he slumped against the post as she remarked, "Oh, this one has spirit, he does. It'll be almost too much fun to break him in to the crew. Come now, Angus, don't be so glum, you know you're my favorite still."

"I'm a married man!" Will protested, desperate.

The woman flicked cool green eyes to his left hand, and a brow bobbed. "Really now? I don't see a ring on your finger, my delicious little man. You can't sell me a bridge to Jamaica so easily as that." She gave another chuckle, this one possessing an edge of coldness. "I'll take him, Lotter. How much is it you were asking, this time?"

"You can't do this! I'm not a slave!" Will backed up as far as the chains bound to the cuffs at his wrists would take him, and began to jerk at it, wincing as the metal cut unforgivingly into his flesh. Desperation made him do it, struggling with what strength he'd managed to harbor as he waited for them to deliver him here, all the while the captain telling him stories of the sales that had taken place here in the past. It would do no good, because they were already closing on him, keeping him at the end of the chains so that he had nowhere left to run.

"For goodness's sake, I've heard enough of his voice, dear Lotter. Shut him up, before I change my mind." She sounded so reasonable, so terribly sane as she bartered away his freedom casually, counting out doubloons and putting them in Lotter's hands as his bullyboys pinned Will between them, shoving the gag back into his mouth despite his best efforts to struggle free.

"Take him to the ship, Angus. That's a good boy. I'll join the rest of you shortly, after I pick up some _personal_ things." The look she gave Will was certainly predatory, and hinted at a great many things that he didn't have any desire to think on overmuch. All he could think of was Elizabeth, and how incredibly _wrong_ everything had gone since the day of the wedding.


	5. The Devil's Dowry

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, I'm just borrowing them. Please don't sue me!

IBNerd: While I appreciate your point of view, this story is being told from my own meandering imagination, and if you feel you are capable of doing a better job, then I do not see anyone or anything keeping you from it. In regards to your contention that Bootstrap Bill and Governor Swann would not do such things, I tell you that I do not know of _**any**_ parent who would not do everything within their power to ensure their child's happiness. Just because their choices and actions have led to a rather bizarre set of circumstances that have only made things worse for their respective offspring, doesn't mean that the choices they made weren't carried out with the best of intentions.

To those who are enjoying the story, here is hopefully more of the same. Feedback is much appreciated. Having said my piece, on with the story!

* * *

Jack was digging through a beautifully carved wooden chest when Elizabeth stepped into the captain's cabin. He had a large heap of finery scattered around himself in haphazard disregard for things that shouldn't be crumpled, and for an absurd moment, Elizabeth pictured him as a child playing dress-up in the closet of a respectable adult. She could hear him mumbling something about dresses, and she wondered what he wanted her for.

"Ah, there it is." He pulled out a beautiful chiffon gown of deep claret with black lace, and Elizabeth recognized it immediately.

"What do you think you're doing with that?"

"Well, I don't intend to be the one to wear it, Elizabeth. It's hardly my size, after all. I was hoping that you'd volunteer, since you looked so fine in it the last time you wore it."

"No." Her refusal stemmed from the bad memories that wrenched her stomach unpleasantly into the back of her throat. Jack's face clouded over, the sodden good nature disappearing briefly, before he rekindled his cheer, and flashed a gold-toothed smile at her, refusing to be deterred from whatever plan he'd been brewing.

"Oh, good! I shall inform the crew immediately that you wish to change course and return to Port Royal."

"What are you talking about? I wish to do nothing of the sort!" Jack closed the distance between them, and clasped her shoulders in his hands. Whether it was meant to be comforting or not, Elizabeth could not say, but it made her want to squirm away from his grip, something about being held fast kicked instinct from a small voice in the back of her head into a dull roar, but somehow she managed not to shrug him off. It might hurt his feelings, and right now she needed him on her side.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Mrs. Turner, the _Black Pearl_ is rigged with black sails." That he felt the need to point out the obvious rather irritated Elizabeth, but she managed to bite back her initial response, which would have been far less pleasant and polite than the rebuttal she came up with.

"Yes, I know that, Jack."

"Good! Now… like it or not, that is one of the many things that makes this ship unique, and by association, easily identified even from a distance. Do you honestly want us to go sailing into Port of Spain harbor without so much as a by your leave, and see what happens without a plan?"

"I thought you and Will's father were friends." Elizabeth said softly, feeling lost suddenly in Jack's circuitous reasoning.

"Were, darling…were. And unless I can find a way to salvage this, we may never be again. Now, considering the current state of affairs, I would very much like it if you would be so kind as to put the dress on for me?" Hesitantly, Elizabeth took the gown in her hands, the very weight of it reminding her of a great many unpleasant experiences.

"I'm doing this for Will." She stated briskly, so there could be no mistaking her motive at a later date.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, love. I'll be on the main deck, if you should need anything." Jack moved to the door, to grant her a measure of privacy.

"Jack?" it was his turn to pause at the door with his hand on the latch. "Thank you for everything you've done for me…for Will." He grinned that fox's grin at her,

"I'll hear none of it; I owe you both at least once." And with that, Jack was out the door before she could add anything further.

* * *

To most anyone, the word Hell conjured up images of the fiery abyss, where there was no water to be had for the thirsty, and the damned burned in eternal torment. To William Teague, known to some as Bootstrap Bill, Hell was the darkest depths of the ocean floor, strapped to a rusting cannon as one waited for the sea to erode boot leather enough to break free of it.

Every night when he closed his eyes, he revisited the past unwilling; finding himself in the time and place that Barbossa and his mutinous crew had chosen to rid themselves of a seemingly perpetual thorn in their sides.

_Jack had been tied hand and foot, trussed up like a bird, really, as they prepared a longboat to take him ashore. There were no ridiculous theatrics involved in getting rid of the former captain, no walking the plank; that sort of thing was reserved for the hapless unfortunates who didn't know how ruthless the crew could be, given half the opportunity. Bill watched, making sure that there wasn't anyone lingering too close before he crouched down by Jack, who looked remarkably cheerful for the fact they were stealing his ship from him and about to leave him on a deserted island with barely enough trees present to provide decent shade._

"_I'm sorry, Jack. I tried to stop them, but Barbossa threatened to send me back to England in pieces if I didn't back down." Jack smiled as he looked up at his closest friend on the ship, and knew that things were changing that neither of them could effect. Still, he tried to remain cheerful about it._

"_S'alright, Bill. I know you weren't behind this. You done what's right by you, can't expect more than that. You got a missus and boy to look after; getting stuck here with me wouldn't do them any good, would it?"_

"_This was supposed to be my last trip with you, Jack. You said we'd never have to sail again, unless we wanted to, after this. My boy is almost ten, and I've never laid eye on him." Jack took Bill's hands between his own, for all that he was securely tied at the wrists, a gentle forgiveness in his eyes that made Bill want to scream, to lash out at Barbossa and the others. This wasn't fair…it wasn't supposed to happen this way._

"_You'll get your chance to see him soon enough. Keep your head down. And Bill… don't do anything stupid."_

"_I swear on it, Jack. Once I'm shut of this crew, I'm coming back for you. Promise me you'll hold on. Don't give up." Jack looked up, meeting Bill's eyes full on for the first time since Bootstrap had joined him on the lonely section of deck. The façade of false cheer cracked then, and Bill could see how much having his ship stolen from him, his dreams of treasure ripped from his grasp really hurt the rambling pirate captain. All of his oddities aside, Jack was one of the most fair people that Bill had ever met, and he was afraid of what this might do to Jack's character. He'd been too trusting to give Barbossa the coordinates to Isla de la Muerta, but Barbossa was a savvy conman, and knew how to talk a pleasant line better than most, when there was something he wanted._

"_Don't make promises you can't keep, Bill. I'll see you around." The smile was a pale glimmer of his normal gusto, and it caught Bill unawares. "Best be moving on, now. I can see Twigg headed this way."_

_Barbossa was with him, and he had a single shot pistol in his hand, as well as Jack's favorite sword in the other, old though it was. Jack claimed the balance suited his hand. The new captain set Jack's effects in his lap with a sneer of his lips._

"_Here're your things, Jack. Are you ready to take governance of your new island?" Jack looked down at the pistol in his lap._

"_I'll be saving that shot for you, Barbossa. Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

_

_They made Bill take the first piece of gold, even though they didn't believe there was an Aztec curse, it was always better to be safe than sorry. He'd refused, naturally, for his own reasons, which raised a cacophony of ribbing, both good natured, and meanly meant from the rest of the crew that he was afraid. Their suspicions for his motive were completely off the mark. _

_Barbossa cocked a pistol and set it to the back of Bill's head, convincing him once more that it was in his own best interests, as well as that of his wife and son, to be the first to plunder the glittering hoard. His stomach churning with guilt, Bootstrap lifted a golden medallion from the stone chest they'd opened. Someone tittered nervously; Bootstrap thought it must have been Ragetti, the fool. They all stood around him, watching, waiting to see what might happen as a result of taking from the accursed treasure. Bill stood there in silence, feeling his shame twist in his guts. Jack should have been here. He'd been the one to sell the idea to the crew, speaking of treasure untold, and he'd been right…he'd been right, and they'd stolen his glory from him, and left him on an empty beach._

_Bill shrugged finally, and tucked the gold into his pocket, looking back over at Barbossa as though to ask him whether he was satisfied. Outside, the clouds churned; they'd been racing a storm here for the last day, and Bill wasn't sure they'd be off the island before it hit in full force. _

"_Everyone load up, we're off this piece of rock as soon as the chest is empty." At Barbossa's word, the crew began stuffing their pockets with as much swag as they could carry, but Bill had just the one… that's all he wanted, he certainly didn't deserve more than that.

* * *

_

_It was the hunger that tipped Bill off, at first. Nothing he ate could even begin to touch the gut-gnawing hunger, and as he listened to the rumblings of the crew, he knew that he was not the only one affected. But still they sailed on. Under cloudy skies they arrived in Tortuga, eager to spend their riches on rum and women and any other entertainment that could be found in the den of pirates._

_Bootstrap spent none of it, instead, he went to the docks, his mind made up on the best way to deal with the situation. He deserved the curse, he knew that now…if he had spoken more loudly, if he had done anything at all to help Jack, so that he wasn't left on that rock, maybe none of them would have come to this pass. But it was too late, and like it or not, this is what had become of them. They deserved it, all of them, and he could not exclude himself from their motley company, since he hadn't lifted a finger to stop them. He found a ship sailing for England, and bartered for specifics, a package for his boy… a keepsake that would remind him of his dad, and nothing more. It was almost too easy._

_Of course, at moonrise that night, on the first clear night since they'd left Isla de la Muerta, they got a shock of a different sort. None of them were of the flesh, but merely scraps of cloth and bones, even Bill, who was swiftly located and returned to the _Pearl_. Barbossa was furious. He sent them back into the town to get the gold they'd been so free in spending, his thinking was simple…if they returned all of the gold, maybe things would go better for them. All the while, he cursed Jack's name._

_Back on Isla de la Muerta, everyone returned the gold that could be accounted for, and waited breathlessly, hoping to see the curse reversed. Bill was the last, and Barbossa dragged him forward, pointing to the chest. _

"_Where's the piece you took, Bootstrap? Everybody has returned what they took that could be found. Where's yours?"_

_Bill gave in to the unsavory urge to laugh outright at Barbossa. It earned him a strike across the face, but still it was satisfying. _

"_We deserve to be curse, for what we did to Jack. I sent my piece away, and I hope you never find it, none of you!" of course, Barbossa was far smarter than he initially looked, because it dawned on him where the gold may have gone. _

"_You sent it off to London to your boy." There was a growl in his voice, "Well then, since it's clear that you won't sail in the same direction as the rest of us, Bill, this is where you'll be getting off. Tie him up, boys. We have a day's journey ahead of us."

* * *

_

_The water closed over Bootstrap's head far too swiftly, the weight of the cannon they'd strapped him to pulling him down…down. He tried to hold his breath, but the pressures around him rose, and he let it out, only to discover that breathing was no longer necessity, and in fact helped relieve the feeling of crushing that he'd begun to experience, the deeper he was pulled. _

_It was so dark that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, a rather disconcerting realization, and still he was pulled down. He inched his way downward against the chains around his ankles looking for some way to undo them, some way that he could get free. And there was nothing for it. He was stuck._

Bill woke with a gasp, expecting to cough water from his lungs; the fear plagued him every time he woke like this after such dreams. He wasn't sure what had roused him in the early hours of the morning, but he was struck with a fresh bolt of anticipation. For days they'd been watching the harbor for signs of the _Sunlight Dreamer, _the arrival of his son in Port of Spain was the only thing he could properly focus on. For a flash of a moment, he experienced yet another surge of guilt over his treatment of Jack. Yet again, he'd made the wrong decision, seemingly for all the right reasons, and it nagged at him in a most unpleasant manner. He'd apologize later, if the occasion ever arose, but surely Jack would understand why he'd done it… Jack of all people seemed to know him best.

Bill sighed, and scrubbed at his face, to try and clear the cobwebs from his head, when there came a knocking at the door, and something told him it wasn't the first knock.

"Enter." He invited his unknown visitor, and the door opened to admit one of the lieutenants from the fort.

"Sir, I'm sorry to wake you, but the garrison thought you should know we've spotted black sails coming into port. That ship as was here at the beginning of the month is back." Bill frowned trying to make sense of it. Why would Jack come back here? And where had he gone, for that matter? If he had gone to Port Royal, as was his stated intention, and had time to come back after, then where was the _Sunlight Dreamer_, and his son? For a moment, anger twisted in him, and he decided that the answer was simple. Jack had overtaken the _Sunlight Dreamer_ on her journey back, and he'd taken his son again. But reason flew in the face of that. If Jack had Will, why was he _here_, and not on his way back to Port Royal with the boy? There were too many questions, and not enough answers. Sighing, Bill nodded to the lieutenant who was still waiting expectantly for an indication he'd been heard.

"Alright, let me dress and I'll go down to the harbor to meet with them. I don't think they're here to sack the town, so don't get the men all in a dither over this."

* * *

Jack had known all along that Commodore James Norrington was a man accustomed to getting his way. He had, after all, risen through the ranks of Her Majesty's Navy with a combination of skill, hard work and determination. However, Jack still found himself rather put out by the fact that James had somehow insinuated himself into the party that went ashore despite Jack's best efforts to delay him.

Jack stepped from the longboat and clambered up the ladder nailed to the side of the dock, with Anamaria and Gibbs directly behind him. Elizabeth followed demurely, and Jack admitted to himself with a small pang that the only thing she had in her favor at the moment was her upbringing, it was only natural that she fall back on what she knew, and had been trained for. After she stepped forward onto the dock, Norrington was behind her almost immediately, a seeming honor guard, though Jack was certain that he could hold his own should trouble arise. The five of them together made a somewhat motley group, of that Jack had no doubt, but they stood there waiting, because the one man they'd come to see was walking down the dock to meet them.

Jack simply waited. It was not, he told himself, to allow Bill, the man who had set them all in motion, to get the first word in. No… it was to give Elizabeth and Norrington time to process what their eyes were telling them, and to recover themselves in the face of the uncanny resemblance of the man before them to their beloved swordsmith. Elizabeth acted against the only avenue open to a woman of gentle breeding. Jack was not sure what Bill was expecting, but it was not for the young woman to march forward the necessary three steps to put her in reach of him, and deliver a rather resounding slap to his cheek.

"Bloody hell, Jack, do all of your women slap!" Bill yelped, his hand going to his cheek.

"Captain Sparrow, a word with you, if I may?" the second question came from Norrington, predictably, and Jack found himself hard pressed to answer both at once…leastwise with a straight face. Norrington, for his part, had come to the correct conclusion that Jack knew a great deal more than he was letting on, and that he certainly hadn't told James everything he thought he ought to know.

"Sorry, mate…she's not mine." Jack responded with that same devil-may-care grin that everyone had become so familiar with. "In a few moments, Jimmy." His answer to James earned him an instant scowl from the commodore; he really needed to learn to lighten up. Norrington refused to be deterred so easily from his present heading, however, and as Anamaria stepped up and to Elizabeth's side, holding a murmured conversation with the governor's daughter, Jack presumed she was making an effort to calm the girl down.

"Is this Mr. Turner's father?"

"That's very observant of you, Commodore, congratulations!"

"Am I to presume he'll assist us in locating the men who've kidnapped Mr. Turner?" Twice, Jack had attempted to interrupt the interrogation, for that is what it was beginning to feel like, to do something so astoundingly proper as make introductions.

"Hopefully I can introduce all of you?" the pointed question was enough to remind them all of manners, and it was a strange thing, considering that it came from Jack, whom nobody expected to have much in the way of manners at all. "Anamaria, I believe you've met," he spoke, not to Norrington and the party, but to Bill, who nodded his head, an air of weary patience settling over him. He knew better than any of them how well Jack liked to be in control of the situation. This seemed almost a game for him. "This is Mr. Gibbs, my quartermaster, and Commodore Norrington, who has graciously accompanied us here to Trinidad."

"You don't look like a navy man," Bill interrupted, casting a suspicious glance toward James.

"And you don't look much like a governor, sir." Norrington responded tartly, making it clear that tempers were short, and likely to remain that way until more answers were had to his satisfaction.

"Elizabeth Turner," Jack introduced the most important member of their little party last, bringing all eyes back to her. Elizabeth, realizing that she had everyone's attention, dropped a stiff curtsey, attempting to remain civil for the moment.

"I give you all Governor William Teague of Trinidad." Bill's eyes widened perceptibly as Elizabeth was introduced, and took a step back to put more distance between himself and the irate young woman. Somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him that Jack was giving him an easy way to cover up his involvement in Will's apparent disappearance from Port Royal, but the young Mrs. Turner had other ideas, and was not allowing any chance to shed the blame.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would return my husband to me, Governor Teague." The words were formal, but did nothing to soften the accusation. Bill sighed, accepting the blame as he gave an honest answer. Something in her eyes, in her expression told him that he owed her that much.

"Would that I could, Mrs. Turner, but he is not here." The silence stretched out between them all as the shock of his answer was absorbed in varying degrees by those who had come to reclaim the missing blacksmith. It was Norrington who recovered his wits first to ask the question that was weighing heavily on all their minds.

"With all due respect, Governor Teague, if Will Turner is not here… then where is he?"

* * *

Once they'd passed beyond sight of land, Will had been untied, and the gag had been removed before he'd been given brief instructions. His freedom on the ship depended entirely on how he comported himself. If he lent a hand with the sails, as well as other regular shipboard duties, he was welcome to roam where he would, so long as that did not include the captain's cabin. That private demesne was strictly the domain of Bess herself, and he was only allowed in there upon her invitation alone. He determined from the outset that he would just as soon do nothing to garner such an interest, for he wanted nothing to do with the woman, stunning beauty or not.

Will stood on the starboard side, attempting to remain out of the way while the rest of the crew attended to the business of sailing the ship. They seemed to have underestimated his intelligence, for he was trying to determine which way they were traveling by taking note of the sun still on the rise to the east. It didn't really help, but it gave him a small sense of control over the situation. More than anything, he felt positively drained of energy, and couldn't rightly guess why. He didn't feel _ill_, precisely, just worn thin. He was content merely to lean on the rail and observe, for the moment.

A light footstep coming up behind him told him before he even caught scent of her perfume that his intentions to avoid Bess were proving futile.

"Tell me what your name is?" her accent was refreshingly English, something Will hadn't been expecting, but he still wasn't sure he wanted to answer her. Giving in meant giving her some power over him, and he was reluctant to yield even that much.

"I would really rather not," he responded, keeping his voice quiet and polite.

"Come now, what harm can it do?" he flicked dark eyes her way, a bit surprised that she could see nothing wrong in what she'd done… that she had paid gold to another man to enslave him, for whatever purpose she had in mind. Instead of answering, he nodded his head toward a passing crewman.

"I couldn't help but notice that you seem to have a penchant for collecting attractive young men. Is there any particular reason for this, or are you just obsessed with fine things?" Bess laughed, and he noted that there was nothing friendly or kind in the sound. She put her hand on his arm, drawing his gaze yet again.

"And is there any wrong if I choose to surround myself with beautiful things? I have worked hard enough at it, young master, it would seem to me the reward should be of my own choosing."

"You paid a man." He swallowed, struggling with how to word it that wouldn't result in angering her, for he felt he was walking a very fine edge, in this respect. "You paid a man, a slaver, for me. I just want to go home, to Port Royal." She took his hand in hers, studying his fingers with a thoughtful frown on her face.

"You work for a living…a hard living, at that. Blacksmith's apprentice, then?" she traced the faint scars of old burns on the backs of his hands with light fingertips, "You have no hope of gaining your own shop any time soon, young sir. The life I offer you could be more…so much more."

"I am my own master," Will interjected, his voice tense as he pulled his hand free of her light grasp, making no attempt to hide the fact that he wiped it on his breeches, still the only article of clothing he could call his own.

"Were, youngling… you were your own master, but now I am your mistress, is that not so? You have no hope of swimming back to Tortuga, we are too far from land for you to survive such an attempt, and I don't care what Lotter said, you do seem a bit peaky to me. You should accept what has happened to you with grace." She smiled up at him, and there was an edge of harshness in her expression. "It could go so much worse for you. I could put you back in the cell we kept you in while we were setting sail."

"I don't know what bothers me more, your lack of compassion in dealing in slavery, or that you do it so often there's a cage in your hold."

"Your words can't hurt me, boy. I'm past that sort of thing. Now I'll be having your name, or you'll spend the rest of the voyage in the hold, and the devil knows, sunlight never did anyone more harm than good."

"Will Turner," he spat his name as an epithet, it hadn't done him any good, in the past, he didn't believe it would do him any good now.

"Is that so? Welcome aboard the _Devil's Dowry_, Mr. Turner. I hope you find your stay a pleasant one."

* * *

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Elizabeth was positively livid, at the moment, and Jack couldn't think of a thing to say that might calm her.

"I just need another day to get things settled here, so that I might leave Port of Spain to her own devices. Please, Elizabeth…"

"That's Mrs. Turner, Governor Teague. I have no wish to be familiar with the likes of you. You paid pirates to kidnap your own son from a place he was happy, just because you…" she picked up the glass of rum that Jack had been reaching for and threw it to the floor, the glass shattering with a spray of dark liquid in a corona around it. "STOP DRINKING!" Jack obligingly backed away a few steps, his hands bobbing and weaving in front of his chest with no rhyme or reason.

"Alright, love… alright, just calm down, please? That shade of red does nothing for your complexion." She turned back to Teague and jabbed him in the chest with a straight finger, as though she didn't already have his complete attention.

"You've delayed us by two days as it is, with your preparations to leave. Are you trying to give those men time to do something terrible to Will, or is it just happenstance that has kept us here this long?" Bill pressed his lips together to keep himself from responding with rudeness. He couldn't begin to imagine how Elizabeth was feeling at this point, since they had yet to determine exactly where and when his plan had gone wrong. When he finally spoke, his voice held a level measure of tolerance for her outburst.

"I paid the captain of the _Sunlight Dreamer_ to bring Will here without harm, Mrs. Turner. That they have not arrived here before you is both disturbing, and yet unsurprising. There is little doubt that the _Black Pearl_ is the fastest ship in these waters, it's quite possible that you passed the _Dreamer_ by, either in the night, or during the storm that Jack spoke of."

"I'm not willing to accept that, Governor Teague. If we have arrived here and the _Sunlight Dreamer_ has not, then the logical conclusion is not a good one. Either they changed their minds about the value of their passenger, and decided to do something rather unsavory in terms of the disposition of his person, or they've met with ill fortune." It was Norrington's turn to speak his mind. "I know that this is the last thought anyone wants to entertain, but is it even the slightest possibility they changed course, and sailed for Tortuga to sell him for a profit?" James was, he admitted to himself, willing to believe the worst sort of motive when discussing pirates, and it wouldn't surprise him to learn that they'd sold Will into slavery to make a little more money.

Jack opened his mouth to voice a protest to such a notion, more for the fact that Elizabeth looked close to tears as it was, than any real argument that pirates were not the worst sort of villain that the commodore could imagine. Governor Teague's maid came into the study where the four of them were gathered; Anamaria and Mr. Gibbs had returned to the _Pearl_ to make sure the crew stayed out of trouble, leaving the planning session to brighter minds, or so they claimed.

"Would you like me to bring the tea, Governor Teague?" she asked respectfully. Jack reflected that she was a demure little thing, dark hair pulled back into a bun, covered by a maid's cap, and he wondered if he'd have time… Elizabeth's deep sigh of frustration pulled his mind back to the present company, and he cleared his throat, as well as his thoughts of anything that didn't immediately help the situation.

"Yes, Gabrielle, that would be very good of you, my dear. Service for four, if you please." She smiled, her cheek dimpling, and dropped a curtsey before moving from the room. "I'll bring a broom as well, sir, to clean that little spill up." Jack watched her go until he realized that he was being addressed.

"Jack? Do you think it would be the wiser course to sail to Tortuga and see if we might find news of the _Sunlight Dreamer_ there? At the very least, word passes from ship to ship, and we might have a better chance of tracking her down by going to the heart of where the gossip flies." Jack blinked, trying to remember what the conversation was, much less where he scored a place in it. He'd been staring sadly at the stain on the floor that had once been a glass of rum, and considering what a waste it had been.

"Er…yes. The _Black Pearl_ is at your disposal of course, until such a time as we manage to catch up with young William, and return him to those who love him best." He was frowning at Bill now, a clear indication that he wasn't happy with the way things had gone…they had a long talk ahead of them, Jack was fairly certain of it.

Norrington sat off to the side and clenched his hands into fists. It was better, he supposed, than the alternative of laying into Jack, to make him stop acting as though he were perpetually drunk. James knew for a fact he was not, since the only thing he'd had to drink was a glass of grog every day, and that was for the touch of lime alone.

"I suppose it's settled then. We leave on the morning tide." The decision came from William Teague, and James had to respect that he'd shortened his preparations by an entire day to accommodate his new daughter-in-law's impatience to be away.

* * *

They'd been at sea for nearly a week before that talk finally came due. Jack had been putting it off for his own reasons, enjoying watching Elizabeth Turner become adept at handling a sail and tying off a line as neatly as any of the other crewmembers aboard the _Black Pearl_, and he wasn't sure he was ready to speak to Bill about the past, or the present either one. It wasn't really like Bill had given him nowhere else to go, either, as he came up beside him at the helm, where Jack was idly holding the ship's wheel on the course they'd set. The silence stretched between them until it was tight enough to twang if plucked, and Jack spoke first.

"Listen, mate, I know the scenery is wonderful from this particular vantage, but there's really only room for one of us up here at a time, so whatever you've come to say, you'd do best to get it off your chest before the weight sinks you all over again." The words he chose were slightly cruel and he knew it, even before Bill flinched back, and went so far as to take a step to leave Jack to his own thoughts. Jack stilled him with an upraised hand.

"I'm not going to tell you that it's all roses between us, Bill, the things you done in getting your way have caused a great deal more harm than good, despite the fact that I tried to warn you off the present course when you tried to twist me arm into doing it for you." Jack turned the wheel slightly, the creak of timbers music to his ears as the Pearl cut through the water. The weather was beautiful, and had been for several days, a fact that Jack was deeply grateful for. There was no slack to the sails as they raced for Tortuga, and whatever answer might be forthcoming in that den of iniquity.

"I came to apologize, though I daresay you're very welcome to tell me to shove it, Jack." Bill said finally, his voice toned down to make it clear that his words were for Jack's ears alone.

"Don't be stupid, Bill. Your actions have hurt Elizabeth Turner far more than they have me. Even threatening to hang me was an empty promise, as I know you wouldn't do that, no matter how much you blustered and blew. You took her young man away from her, and she's aching for him." Jack motioned with his chin toward where Anamaria was teaching Elizabeth yet another knot to secure ropes. "She keeps busy because staying still too long gives her too much time to think about what might be happening to Will. That's your fault, and I'm not the one that should be hearing how sorry you are." Bill gave forth with a deep sigh, conceding the point.

"You're right, but I don't have the faintest idea of how to talk to her."

"Well, don't be asking Captain Jack, he has enough trouble keeping peace with her, savvy? It's your problem, and you're the one as needs to solve it, mate." Bill's face took on a thoughtful cast, but his considerations were interrupted as a green and gold parrot flapped down and landed on Jack's shoulder.

"Sail ho! Sail ho!" Jack's chin jerked up and he looked up toward the crow's nest, where Mr. Cotton was on post, watching the horizon. The mute sailor was pointing in the direction they were traveling in, to indicate that a ship was on the approach. Jack wondered once again how the man had taught the parrot the key phrases he used to communicate with the rest of the crew, but such a thought had no place at this point in time.

"Apparently, we're about to have company." Jack suggested before looking toward where Anamaria was still by Elizabeth, though she'd troubled herself to stand. He raised his voice so that she might hear his orders, "Make sure the lads are ready for trouble…and raise the white flag. The sooner we start asking for information, the sooner we'll find the _Sunlight Dreamer_, and young Will Turner."

* * *

Will had been set to the rather ironic task of making sure all the ship's swords had sharp blades. He'd been given a whetstone with which to accomplish the job, and left to his own devices. The men had all brought their swords to him, and left them to be attended to, and he was amazed at the amount of trust that was being given in leaving him with an amassed pile of weapons that he could use against them.

The fact of the matter was, even if he took it into his head to try and use one of the swords, there were too many of them for him to be able to keep the weapons away from their owners, and he recognized the futility of even making such an attempt. What he was grateful for was simple. Bess made sure he was given the opportunity to eat as much as he wanted, though he admitted that wasn't much, and the job he'd been appointed involved being able to sit down, which he felt he had need of. Every time he stood up, his head swam and dark spots danced before his eyes.

The _Devil's Dowry_ was a quarter into the wind, and the going had been fairly slow, though Bess didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to get wherever they were traveling to. It was a fine day, and Will had seated himself in a patch of sunlight, because it made the skin of his face ache just a fraction less than it did when he sat in the shade, where shivering seemed to be the normal course of events. He didn't know what manner of curse he was under, though he was fairly certain there _was_ one, given what he'd seen of the ring before Webster, captain of the _Sunlight Dreamer_, had sold him to Lotter the slaver. They'd also given him more to wear than the travel-stained white breeches, now more the worse for wear than he would have liked, considering what they meant to him. He pulled the frayed captain's coat around his shoulders, and didn't care to question where they'd come by it, he would have to be satisfied that they at least recognized he needed to feel warm, or at least warmer than the rest of them.

Will was sitting on the deck not far from the steerage column, offering a better vantage of the surrounding waters, just because he had an overwhelming desire to see where they were going. There had been no land for days, not since Bess had ported at an unnamed island for half a day, conducting whatever business was her own to keep track of. Will had asked, but had been told to mind his nose didn't end up where it didn't belong, and he decided that the better course would simply be to keep his curiosity contained. It wasn't easy, however, just another symptom of his inability to be in control of the situation in any way shape or form. And he missed Elizabeth more with every breath he took. Sleeping was something of a mercy, because more than half the time, he couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about.

Above, from the crow's nest, there came a sharp whistle, and the man who was on lookout shouted down for everyone's benefit, even as he began to scramble frantically down the multitude of lines that ran into the rigging. "Sails on the horizon, cap'n! Black sails! I think it's the _Black Pearl_." The information seemed to shake the young man, and he looked to the cabin where Bess was just emerging, a cool look on her face as she considered the wind, and the situation. "Should we run, cap'n?"

Will had sprung to his feet, though it made him dizzy, and stared vainly in the direction the lookout had pointed, trying to spot those black sails as relief surged to the fore. If he could talk to Jack, maybe he'd be able to bargain with Bess for his release. Her next words made it clear that whatever hopes he'd been entertaining were as useless as his myriad plans to use the swords to win his freedom.

"Take the smith below; I don't want Captain Sparrow relieving me of my prize, when I haven't had any real time to appreciate him." She smiled winsomely at Will, even as he bent and took a sword in his hand, trying to keep the men who moved to follow her orders at bay though they came for him anyway, seemingly nonplussed by the threat he posed so armed.

"None of that now, my dear. You're going to wear yourself out with all this fretting. Is Captain Sparrow a friend of yours, then? He always did seem a bit too goody-two-shoes for the pirating business, but I've heard some very interesting stories where he's concerned. You and I can talk about them later, after I've sent him along on his way."

Will tried to twist his way free of the hands that grasped his arms on both sides, and a dark feeling of hate began to worm its way into his heart. This was just one more failure on his part to be able to affect events as they transpired, his hope that they'd be satisfied merely with putting him in that damnable cage were crushed like glass beneath a boot heel as Bess called instructions after her darling men to make sure he wasn't capable of drawing attention to himself in his confinement. He didn't remember what manner of words he shouted as he was dragged below decks, but none of it was worthy of repetition later.


	6. Inopportune

Okay, appy-polly-ologies for the amount of time it's taken me to get back to the fiction. Things have been really nasty for me, RL, as far as affording me any time to concentrate on a personal entertainment, such as exists in this fic. Please bear with me, gentle reader, and I shall endeavor to do what I can to push forward, and get more of it down on 'paper' as it were. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Of course none of these fine people belong to me, with the exception of Bess and Angus. Please don't sue me for borrowing them! All I have to my name is a Butterfinger Crisp bar.

**

* * *

**  
Jack was scowling and pacing back and forth in front of the wheel as Elizabeth watched him from where she was perched on a nearby barrel. The difference between his scowling and his pout, she surmised, lay in the utter seriousness with which he approached whatever it was that held him so deeply in thought.

"What is it, Jack?" She interrupted his meandering circuit finally, attempting to cut through the rising tension before it spelled trouble for everyone aboard.

"That ship…" and he jabbed a thumb menacingly in the direction of the approaching corsair. "Is the absolute _last_ ship I would have chosen to run across in these waters." Elizabeth could have been mistaken, but she thought he muttered something more under his breath, "Or any waters, truth be told…"

"But why, Jack? I thought you said we'd bespeak every vessel we came across, in hopes of finding someone who'd seen the _Sunlight Dreamer_."

"Aye, love; that we will. But _that_ ship is the _Devil's Dowry_, and she may as well be captained by the devil's bride, for all the compassion that woman holds for men."

"Oh." Elizabeth paused, thinking over what little Jack had actually said. "She hates men, then?"

"Only those she has no use for, Elizabeth. However, in keeping with my word, we'll have a chat with her to see if she knows anything, though I wouldn't hold your breath were I you. She's keen to give away nothing that doesn't have a price attached to it." Jack paused, though Elizabeth sensed that his mood was picking up once more, the temporary pique having waged its course. "Come on then, let's go speak to Jimmy. He needs to stay below decks while yourself, Anamaria and I go speak to that infernal woman."

"Why just Anamaria and I? I would be more comfortable if James were with us… considering he's going to be very put out if you don't let him go." The tone of her voice suggested that she was amused by the overprotective streak that Norrington had given startling evidence of, since they'd set sail from Port Royal. Jack privately found it overdone, though certainly useful, since he could hardly spare half a moment when things were busy to make sure that Elizabeth was both safe and comfortable.

"Because we don't want her setting her cap for one of the men on my ship, and I'm not giving her a chance to meet any more of them than she must. I've run afoul of her before, and it was quite the time I had convincing her she wasn't interested in _me_. Trust me on this, Elizabeth, if you've never trusted me before."

Elizabeth nodded, her expression confused, but quiescent all the same. "Very well, Jack. I'll go with you to talk to this woman. And I hope that you're just exaggerating as you tend to do, surely she can't be as bad as all that!"

"Probably worse, Mrs. Turner, but you shall see for yourself soon enough. Now if you'll excuse me, I really must go and speak with your bloody friend Norrington." It wasn't the first time he'd used those words in reference to the Commodore, and Elizabeth realized with a bolt of recognition that the first time he'd ever said that, they'd been stuck on that miserable spit of an island, and she'd been contemplating even then how best to get the rum to burn, for a signal fire.

* * *

"What is this obsession with leaving me behind that you seem to have, Captain Sparrow? Every time trouble arises, you expect me to simply remain here while you resolve things on your own, and once more I'm going to be forced to refuse to follow orders to the letter. I made a promise that you swore you'd see me keep, and yet you deny me the course that must be followed if I am to keep it."

"There wasn't any trouble at Port of Spain, Commodore, if you'll recall aright, the only person that struck a blow is the selfsame female you're sworn to protect. Looks like she's doing a fine job all of her own accord." Jack would not be swayed this time… he'd given in to Norrington before, when he would rather not have done him any favors, but this was the one time that he would have his way, or there would be the devil to answer to, and that was a conversation that Jack would just as soon delay as long as possible.

"Elizabeth told me you said this woman is dangerous."

"To men, to be specific, which is why I'm taking women with me to speak with her, if you'll follow my logic? No… Elizabeth will be safe enough from the likes of Bess Burrel. You, however, she'd be very likely to kill as soon as look at. You might look like a common sailor, Commodore, but you act like a soldier, and she has a special hate in her heart for just such men. They killed her lover back in bonnie England."

"I'm sure he deserved it." Norrington responded churlishly, feeling rather put out by the obvious victory that Jack was now free to lord over him, if he so chose. Of course, the look on Jack's face was enough to make him feel ashamed of what he'd said. "Fine, I'll stay here in the hold, but I expect a full accounting once you come back with the ladies." The concession didn't make him feel very good about the situation, but it was the best Jack was going to get out of him. Sensing that, the pirate captain turned and… minced up on deck again. Norrington shook his head, exasperated. Maybe it wasn't an act after all.

* * *

Will tested the rope that bound his hand behind his back and kept him tied to a ring that had been embedded into the hull of the ship. They'd gagged him again, to keep him from shouting and alerting their visitors that he was locked down here. He wrenched his hands against the knots, hoping they hadn't been tied very skillfully. If he could just get one hand free, the gag would be easy enough to get rid of, but the knots were only getting tighter, to his rising dismay.

Useless, then, to try any further but he couldn't stomach the thought of just giving up. Angrily, he twisted his body and kicked against the hull. His reward was a dull, hollow thud, but he doubted it was loud enough to attract attention. When he stretched himself to gather his strength for another kick, his knee met with unforgiving metal. Further scrabbling in the chaff of the cell yielded a rusty belt buckle that he thought might be turned to his advantage.

More squirming around put the piece of metal just barely in reach of his straining fingertips and he had to lean against the ropes painfully to secure a more solid grip on it. Finally, the prize was his, and he started hacking at his bindings as sweat began running into his eyes from his prolonged efforts.

* * *

Once more, and she swore for the last time, Elizabeth found herself clad in the crimson gown that Barbossa had once forced her to wear what seemed like a lifetime ago. They had lowered a rope ladder from the side of the _Devil's Dowry_ to make ascent easier for those who had come visiting in the long boat. However, the dress hindered Elizabeth's ability to climb, and she cursed under her breath at the inconvenience of it. The only consolation she clung to was that Jack had ordered Anamaria, despite vicious protests and another resounding slap to the face, to don a gown of similar cut and design.

Elizabeth thought the woman presented a smoldering beauty far more alluring than her own modest appeal. What she failed to appreciate was the effect they would command from Bess Burrel's crew as soon as they were properly upright on the deck. Jack had deliberately cultivated natural charm to new heights and every last man, Elizabeth counted eleven, had stopped what they were doing to stare. The unwanted attention made her skin crawl. When she looked into Bess Burrel's eyes, she witnessed a jealousy strong enough to border on outright hatred. Elizabeth caught her breath, feeling as though she were suffocating under the weight of it. Bess did not address her, after that initial assessment. She seemed content to pretend that Elizabeth didn't have the wit to carry on a decent conversation.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Captain Jack Sparrow." She purred, as though both surprised and honored to be in such august presence.

"You flatter me, Bess, really you do. I am, however, looking for information this fine afternoon, and we are in a bit of a hurry." The woman pouted, not nearly so practiced at it as Jack himself, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes in Anamaria's direction.

"That is a shame, Jack. I was hoping we could spend some time together, catching up on old times." There was a glint in Bess' eyes that spoke of some past injustice, though whether it was imagined or real was Jack's knowledge alone.

"Very sweet of you, Bess, but I don't see Angus as liking that too much."

"You always were a spoilsport, Jack. Very well, what is it you're wanting to know, and I'll see if I can help you." Anamaria was seething, Elizabeth realized, watching the dark-skinned beauty with a curious eye. Her hands were clenched into fists, and the blacksmith's wife came to the conclusion that if Jack's first love were not the _Pearl_, he might have found himself quite happily saddled with the spitfire pirate woman.

"Have you been to Tortuga recently?"

"Maybe I have, and maybe I haven't." the woman pursed her lips for a moment, a blown kiss that had Anamaria moving forward a step, looking as though she'd like to claw the other woman's eyes out. Elizabeth interposed her body between them, without seeming as though she were doing anything more than shifting to a different pose for the benefit of the men of the crew.

"No need to be coy, Bess. Your games won't work with Captain Jack." Elizabeth was bemused at his continuing need to refer to himself in the third person, but it seemed to work well in his favor, and Bess nodded, dropping her pretense of flirtations.

"We're looking for my husband." Elizabeth cut in, impatience winning out against her desire to not draw any further attention from Bess. She simply could not bear the continued dancing around the subject that was closest to her heart with the word play and games that Bess seemed content to draw out as long as she pleased. Bess flicked onyx eyes back in her direction with a cold chuckle.

"Why, Jack… I didn't realize you'd taken to ferrying prospective brides, although I daresay she's certainly more high-toned than most of the other women it's rumored you normally keep company with." Elizabeth blushed at the insinuation that she was no better than a common whore being parceled out to the first man who'd have her.

"She's not a mail order bride." Jack snapped, losing his patience in what may have been the first time that Elizabeth had ever witnessed it. "Her husband was kidnapped from Port Royal by the crew of the _Sunlight Dreamer_. If you've seen them, be so kind as to tell us that we might be on our way, and off your ship?" Bess sighed, going back to that coy pouting that she'd tried in the first place.

"They were in Tortuga when we left. If you hurry, you might catch them there, still." She offered a helpless little shrug. "And if not, there are those who would be willing to tell you their normal haunts for a fee, but I don't know them."

"Thank you," Elizabeth tendered her gratitude grudgingly. She didn't care for Bess, and Bess didn't care for her, so there was no love lost between them.

"What is your husband's name, child? So that I might help in searching for him." Elizabeth, startled by the offer of assistance, answered, completely missing Jack's dark look to give nothing more away than Bess already knew.

"Will Turner."

"You love him, and that is admirable. I, too, have done a great many unpleasant things for love. Luck in your search for the _Sunlight Dreamer_."

Jack was frowning as he ushered Anamaria and Elizabeth back to the waiting long boat. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, and he couldn't pin it down long enough to identify what it was.

* * *

Will was nearly halfway through the rope, by his judgment, when Bess stepped around the crates and barrels that concealed the cage in the hold of the small ship from prying eyes.

"You may as well stop now. They've gone back to the _Black Pearl_ already, none the wiser that you were here at all." Either she was attempting to be kind as well as cruel, or she didn't really care what Will might say to her, because her hands were careful in his tangled hair as she worked out the knots that held the gag in his mouth. For a moment, Will became lost, imagining that it was Elizabeth who worked to free him. He closed his eyes, clinging to that precious image.

"Why have you done this? You could have bargained for me, and come out ahead." Will's voice was hoarse from the lack of moisture in his mouth, and he attempted to work some saliva forward, to better speak

"Jack has stolen something from me before, and I wasn't about to let him do it twice, Will Turner.

"He would have paid whatever you asked." Will countered, hoping that he could change her mind before the _Black Pearl_ sailed beyond hailing distance.

"Perhaps he would have, boy, but you see…your worth to me cannot be measured with pieces of eight." She stepped from the cage, closing and locking it behind her, leaving Will still bound to the iron ring set in the hold wall. She settled herself primly on the top of a crate, spreading her skirts around her. Will struggled painfully to his knees, keeping the rusted buckle clasped in sweat-slicked fingers.

"What do you want from me, then?" Will rasped, pondering how sweet even three drops of water would be right now. Bess ignored the question, continuing on in her self-important musings.

"Captain Sparrow surprises me. He sails with women, these days. I'd wager a lot of his old habits have changed, since that scoundrel Barbossa stole his ship from him."

"Anamaria is his first mate." Will answered warily, not sure what it was Bess was fishing for in this conversation.

"That would be the dark-skinned one, yes? He never did tell me their names." Her choice of words, and that there was more than one woman in her description tipped Will off, and his head came up sharply, eyes narrowed.

"Elizabeth!"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Turner; you honestly don't want to wear yourself out with useless fretting." Will would hear none of it. He began throwing himself against the half-sawn ropes in the vain wish that they would give way completely under his weight.

"Why? Why do you tell me this now? Do you take pleasure from tormenting me?" He let out a choked sound, anguish at his helplessness, and he could not later say whether it was sweat or tears that ran down his cheeks as he continued to throw himself against the rope, digging even more harshly into flesh already abused by chains and metal cuffs. Bess, for her part, remained silent, watching his efforts as her eyes became softer, a little more distant.

"I had considered…that if you loved her as much as she loves you…I may have let you go." The hardness returned, almost of it's own volition, making her seem cast in stone. "But it's too late now. I spoke the wrong lies to Jack Sparrow, and he would never believe my intentions were honorable if I were to turn around and tell him I had you all along."

With an inarticulate cry of rage, Will flung himself forward a final time and the rope frayed and snapped, pitching him to the floor. Rising painstakingly back to his hands and knees, surprised at the amount of blood he'd drawn in breaking the hempen ropes, Will shook his head, trying to clear his ears of the sound of the sea roaring ever closer. It was deafening, and he couldn't hear whatever it was Bess was saying, though he knew she spoke because her lips were moving. He was tired…so tired, and he barely had time to register the floor rushing up to catch him, before everything went dark again.

* * *

Bill Teague had made it his habit not to venture out on deck any more than he absolutely had to. As an initial suspicion, Elizabeth surmised he was going out of his way to avoid her, until the night she couldn't sleep, and found herself poking around the ship in search of something new to occupy her attention, because she didn't want to think on what danger Will might be in. It made her stomach turn with anxiety, and she couldn't bear it.

It was the whimpering which drew her further into the hold. At first, Elizabeth thought a stowaway must have come aboard at Port of Spain which would account for the piteous sounds coming from the sleeping section of the rest of the crew, where hammocks swayed gently with the rolling of the sea. Most of the men were still on deck, carousing with Jack, and surprisingly, James. It was Bill, who she realized she hadn't seen all afternoon, easily identified in the dimly lit room as she drew closer. He was sleeping, which made the sounds of distress that much more terrible to her ears.

"Bill, wake up." Elizabeth whispered, not wanting to get too close, or startle him into sudden violence. He didn't respond right away, so she repeated her directive, hoping that words alone could rouse him from the nightmare which held him in its unforgiving grip. "Bill…please, wake up?"

With a choked cry, Bill launched himself out of the hammock, clutching at his throat as he gasped and coughed. To Elizabeth, it seemed as though he'd been suffocating, but she didn't know by what.

"Elizabeth…what…what are you doing here, lass?" He was so miserable, that she let the matter of formality and first names go, intending to get straight to the bottom of this new puzzle.

"You were dreaming, a bad one. I could hear you even from the stairs." She felt that it was best to be honest with him, though his pride might not like to admit that he had, indeed, been near to crying in his sleep.

"Aye, it comes to me a lot, whether I will it or no." Bill didn't seem to feel the need to dissemble in front of his son's choice of a wife, though, even if he did color slightly in the close lighting. He closed his eyes for a moment, and drew a deep breath, before letting it go again in a shuddering sigh.

"Bill…what were you dreaming?" Curiosity got the better of her, and she reasoned that when they found Will, she'd have to get to know his father sooner or later anyway, it was probably better to get a head start.

"Best not to ask, I have no wish to speak of it, leastwise. Some of the worst memories we do better to bury, but they always haunt us in our sleep, you know." He seemed grim, lost in the past, and she couldn't think of any good way to return him to the present. She doubted a good kick in the shin would be very effective, and besides, she was barefoot, having taken a great liking to walking the deck without the benefit of footwear, despite Jack's repeated warnings on splinters.

"Will told me that Barbossa and his crew dumped you into the ocean to be rid of you, when you told them they deserved to be cursed. Is that what you were dreaming, that you were drowning?" Bill had to admit that she was quite a clever girl, and surely that was part of her appeal to Will, even setting aside her beauty.

"Yes, that was it. Now could we please change the subject, it's not one I have any wish to dwell on, right now." But she pressed on, despite his blatant request for a different topic, and later he found he was glad that she was as hard-headed as she was pretty.

"Will was certain that he'd killed you, when he shed his blood to break the curse. He used to dream about it too, you know, about how horrible it must have been for you to be stuck at the bottom of the ocean until all of the gold was returned, and the blood repaid."

"And I felt I had been his death, when I knew the curse was broken." Bill whispered, looking everywhere but at her eyes, and the accusations that must have sprung forth in her expression. "I sent it to him, because of what Barbossa and the others had done, we _were_ cursed, and every man jack of us deserved it. It took me a long time to get free of the cannon…a long time, but when I returned to shore, I stayed hidden, because rumors were flying around Tortuga about the only way to break the curse. I never thought they'd find it, or Will. I thought he'd be safe, and he's been here in the Caribbean nearly the whole time. I should have found him; I should have been with him, like a real father. Instead he got an orphan's upbringing at the hands of a drunken blacksmith."

"Don't. You have no idea how good it's been for Will. He takes a great deal of pride in his work, and if he heard you talking like this, he'd be angry with you." And finally, she gave him the opening he'd been searching for since the day they spotted the _Devil's Dowry_ and bespoke Bess Burrel.

"I'm sorry for what I done, Elizabeth. I didn't know what I was mucking up when I hired that crew to bring my Will back. From now on, I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you, and to him." She was silent for a long time, her thoughts far from this place, probably with Will.

"If anything happens to him, I'll never forgive you, Bill. I just thought you should know that going into this. You began this and it's up to the rest of us to clean up after your mistake. Pray, if you ever pray, that he's safe and whole, and that we'll find him soon."

* * *

Will tasted the bitter tang of betrayal when he opened his eyes in the dimly lit captain's cabin, still aboard the _Devil's Dowry_. Anger began to seethe just below the surface of his skin, until he was certain that if he were to cut himself and peel back the flesh, he would be made of nothing but that hateful, raw emotion. The rage lent him new strength as he sat up in the bed and took stock of his surroundings.

His clothes, the hodge-podge of beggar's rags he'd been stuck with since Bess traded his freedom for gold were lying off to the side, spread out over the carved top of a wooden sea chest. He knew then, with stark clarity, that what he had considered a vivid dream had come to pass, and was reality. He rose slowly from the bed, prepared to feel the disorientation that had plagued him for nearly a month, but he remained clear-headed, in spite of expectations.

Will pulled the pile of meager clothing to him and began to dress with methodical slowness. Skewed logic dictated that if he moved with enough care and took his time, the dizziness would not return and he could keep his wits about him enough to act with speed if the opportunity should arise. His wrists were wrapped with clean linen, though he could not remember the cause; but he knew that they ached, so he left them as they were for the moment. He must not have been alone for very long, because a leather-bound book lay open on the small desk set against the hull, with a candle still burning nearby. A short perusal of the exposed page was enough to identify it as a journal, and decency argued that he had no business prying into her personal accounts.

Reason, however, dictated that he might find more answers between the vellum pages of the book than Bess herself might willingly be forthcoming with. He skimmed the passages, then; leafing back through several years of her innermost thoughts and his blood ran cold, before he closed the diary with a hand that trembled.

She had already taken advantage of him while he was helpless against her. He would be twice damned if he would be the sacrifice she needed to keep her lover alive for another year. As he turned toward the door, the cold glint of metal caught his eye, and he knew what he needed to do. He knew with a grim certainty which could not be shaken what must be done. Reason had cruelly deserted him, and he didn't even miss its passing. He took up the sword.

* * *

Will stood by the door for several minutes, listening for the sound of speech, or footsteps or anything that would indicate someone was nearby, yet there was nothing but the creaking of the ship as it rocked on gentle waves. Carefully, he eased the door open and looked out, seeing not a single person on the deck, but from his vantage, he could see a dark mass, perhaps an island off the leeward side of the vessel. Perhaps they were all ashore, he surmised, before edging around and out of the cabin. All the better to make good his escape. He wracked his brain, trying to think of where they might have stowed extra weapons, and determined that they must be in the main crew quarters, below decks.

Finally, quiet voices alerted him to the fact that he wasn't quite as alone as he'd first suspected, and he realized that it was Bess and her lover, Angus.

"I left him still asleep, but at least the fever has broken." She was saying to the red-haired man, as he leaned against the rail. Will kept them in wary sight as he skirted from shadow to shadow, moving around them. He had every intention of saving them for last, as the rage pricked at his senses, urging him to move on.

"You're sure he's going to last long enough to finish what we've begun?" the words were quiet, and Will thought he heard a hint of regret in the Scot's voice, but surely not…the pair of them didn't have even one heart between them, let alone two.

"I cannot begin to guess what keeps him so ill, but he seems hale enough, despite the fever. It was touch and go there, wasn't it? Good thing I thought to drench him with water to cool him down, or we may have lost him."

Will crept past them, with neither the wiser for his passage; down and below decks until he was halted yet again by the crew sleeping in the belly of the ship. His stomach twisted with revulsion as he considered what he meant to do. It was wrong…it was wrong and it was too easy, but his freedom, his very life hung in the balance and he couldn't afford to be honorable and give fair warning to any of them.

It was quick work, and bloody work, to use the sword he'd taken from Bess' cabin as he robbed the men of life, cutting their throats as he passed between the hammocks toward the end of the sleeping area. A mental tally had the count at eleven, and he was fairly certain that was all of them aboard, save for Bess and Angus, and he still didn't know what they were doing off the shore of the night-darkened island, but it was his last chance. Unreasoning fear lay just beneath the anger of being helpless, and both had pushed him past the brink of sanity with a little help from a cursed ring. These were not the fair young men Bess had crewed her small ship with, but Barbossa's men, every last one of them. There lay Pintel, easily dispatched, and Ragetti beyond him, oblivious to his fate.

Will gathered two pistols from the far wall and shoved them into his belt before he turned to walk back up to the stairs that led to the main deck and was brought up short as he stared at the widening lake of blood that was overtaking the rough planking of the floor. Like a child hopping over mud puddles after a spring rain, Will leapt from clean spot to clean spot, loathe to get any of the blood on his feet. He didn't know what he was going to do about shoes, but that would come to him, he was sure. Perhaps Angus and he were of a size, and the man could prove useful in that regard.

Checking to make sure the pistols were loaded, he slipped, wraithlike, back to the main deck, and listened for the sound of the two still talking. It was silent, too silent, but he saw a silhouette still sitting where Angus had been reclining against the rail, and he used his bare feet to his advantage, making no noise at all as he crept ever closer, until he had a good angle with which to shoot the man straight on. The last thing he wrestled with was whether or not to give his enemy any warning at all, before he pulled the trigger. Wherever Bess had gone, she was returning now, and she was running, even as Will's finger tightened on the trigger.

"NO!" she flung herself in front of the startled redhead as the deafening report of the pistol firing filled up the silence of the night. Will's ears rang, and he waited…he waited for the smoke of the shot to clear so that he might see what he had accomplished.

Angus was leaning over the railing of the ship, desperately searching the waters for some sign of where Bess had fallen; the impact of the bullet had flung her over the balustrade and into the sea. He rounded on Will, who had calmly pulled the other pistol from his belt. Without a second thought, he cocked it, prepared to use it if the man tried to engage him in a fight.

"Damn you to hell, what have you done!"

"If you want to live, I suggest you get off the ship. I'm taking it back to a safe port and I'm going home." Will answered reasonably. He was chilled to the bone with what he'd done, and he was doing his best not to think about it overly much. Angus stood there, clearly agonizing over what he should do, even going so far as to lean out over the rail to spot the woman that he loved, still vainly searching. Something occurred to Will, and he tilted his head, considering.

"Which way is Port Royal from here." Angus pointed mutely in the right direction, and Will nodded, making a mental note to put the ship on the proper heading as soon as he was out to sea. "Good, I've changed my mind. You stay with me until the ship is sea-worthy, then you get off."

"I won't leave her!"

"Why are you being so difficult? She's dead, what does she care if you stay or go?" Will was losing what shreds of self-control he had as his temper flared another notch. He determined he would be better off arranging the sails himself and made a sharp motion to the hapless man with the pistol. "Get off then, the jolly boat is just down the deck." Angus moved woodenly to the boat and worked to lower it into the water, before dropping a rope ladder and scampering down the side of the ship, all of it in silence.

Will was certain that there wasn't any other way to be free of this wretched ship and crew, or he would have been more compassionate, even though he'd just shot the ship's captain. She had been planning to kill him. Of that he held no doubts at all. Still…the violence was something new to him, and it still churned in his gut, making him uneasy as he watched Angus push the long boat away from the ship's side, and begin rowing toward the island, which was not far off.

Will made sure he was some distance away, without a chance to surprise the beleaguered blacksmith before setting to work at hoisting the anchor and tacking the sails so that he might catch the wind. It was a long laborious process made worse by constantly checking to make sure that Angus had not returned to exact his revenge for Bess' murder. Finally, the ship began to pick up speed as the sails filled, and Will felt some small measure of relief. Soon enough, he could abandon this ship, filled with death as it was, below decks, and he'd be able to go home to Elizabeth. He missed her so much. He knew he'd made the right choice, no matter the means.

Two days later, when the corsair ran itself onto some shoals hidden by the driving rain that turned the sea and sky the same shade of gunmetal gray, Will realized he'd made a mistake. The ship shuddered, breaking apart on the reef that skewered her belly, and Will thought to himself that at least the blood was going to be cleaned off the boards, finally. He hadn't had the stomach to go back down there after he'd taken possession of the ship. A surging wave swept over his head as the ship pitched sideways, throwing him into the water.


	7. Lingering

Sorry for the long delay between posts. For a while, I thought my grand experiment was on the verge of failure and the story would never be told. Luckily, I'm back in action once more. I have to ask, though...if you manage to read this far into the story, please leave thoughts feelings objections, downright arguments, but leave something. We writers don't get a whole lot of satisfaction from practicing our craft; feedback is one of the only ways to know we're actually reaching an audience.

So...read, enjoy, remark!

_Disclaimer: _

_None of them belong to me with the exception of Rianna. Please don't sue me, all you'd get would be the Edy's Dibs and those are mine, I tell you! On with the story.

* * *

_  
Jack considered himself a fairly clever man, which was why, no more than a day out of Tortuga, he suffered a dilemma. Should he, in all conscience, tell Bill and Elizabeth what he only suspected, thus admitting that he may have missed a vital clue as to Will's whereabouts, or should he keep his silence, and wait for further evidence to support his new theory? If he told them now, they would likely want to turn the ship around and track down the _Devil's Dowry_. On the other hand, if he kept everything close to the vest, more answers might be forthcoming in Tortuga.

He felt the decision should be a fairly simple one, all things considered. The problem was, he kept seeing the stack of sword on the deck of the _Devil's Dowry_, and something about the way they'd been arranged nagged at him like a rotten tooth. Someone had been sharpening those blades and aside from Angus, who he knew was not skilled with the care of swords, Jack was certain her entire crew had been on deck.

Who, then, had been doing the work? The lack of an answer frustrated him, so in a childish fit of pique, he resolved not to think about it any further, until more could be learned in Tortuga on the fate of Will Turner. Still… on the other hand, asking James about it couldn't hurt, and might get him back in the Navy man's good graces, for being left behind while the rest of them visited Bess on the _Devil's Dowry_. James had a clever mind, and was not as closely tied to the young blacksmith as Bill and Elizabeth were.

However, his plan to speak to the commodore about his concerns was dashed when he went looking for James only to discover him in quiet conversation with Bill. Without interrupting the pair, or even alerting them to his presence, Jack slipped off to grant them a measure of privacy.

* * *

What Jack didn't begin to consider was that once more, members of his crew were planning actions that would lead to disastrous repercussions when all was said and done. He had made it perfectly clear that under no circumstances was Elizabeth to set foot ashore in such a no-account place as Tortuga. The risks, he argued, far outweighed any measure of gain that might be had in taking her into the disreputable town. What he failed to take into account was Elizabeth possessing a will of her own, and allies to help her carry things through. 

Bill was thoroughly willing to risk Jack's wrath, and whatever punishment might go along with it, if it meant redeeming himself to the spirited young woman. James, for his part, would allow Elizabeth to make no plan that did not include him; for he was heartily tired of being left behind on the ship. So the pair of them having reached an accord that Elizabeth would be well served by their guidance in her machinations had settled on small talk while they waited for her to join them. Unlikely compatriots indeed, but the alliance seemed a comfortable one.

"You know my son? Is that why you're helping Elizabeth find him?"

"I was aboard the ship the day we pulled him from the sea. He resembled nothing more threatening than a half-drowned rat."

"Jack said he's gotten very good with a sword."

"So I've heard. I never had the nerve to challenge him to a proper duel. It was easy enough to shunt the idea aside when I didn't know him so well. A blacksmith's apprentice was not a suitable opponent in a formal fencing match. It's strange...we've been so convinced of his worth, or lack of it, when he's outranked us all this time."

"I should have come for him sooner." Bill said quietly, his voice rich with a plethora of unspoken regrets. "I thought I was protecting him from Barbossa and his crew. Still…I suppose being raised poor didn't hurt him, either. He's learned the value of good hard work, leastwise."

"If you had raised him to privilege, he'd be just as spoiled and vacuous as the rest of polite society." Something in the way James worded the statement led Bill to believe that the navy man was excluding neither of them from that broad generalization. "Look at this blade he crafted for my naming to Commodore, two years ago. It is the finest sword I've ever seen in these parts." James gave Bill sufficient time to study the loving craftsmanship that had gone into making the sword. They were interrupted at last by the approach of stealthy footsteps; it was Elizabeth as they'd expected.

"I found a likely set of lad's clothes for you, Miss Elizabeth." Bill began, "But no man in his right mind could possibly mistake such a fair face for a cabin boy, if it's not too bold of me to say."

Elizabeth dimpled unexpectedly, "That's very kind of you to say, Bill. And Jack thinks you're right. However, I feel inclined to point out that nobody could rightly say if I'm a proper boy unless they get close enough, which is why I'm not leaving the ship. The two of you shall go into town in my stead. James, keep your head down and listen to Bill. I wager you don't know your way around Tortuga nearly as well as he does."

"So everyone keeps telling me. Need I remind you I've spent the greater portion of my life around villains such as populate this town?"

"I know that, James, but you don't know how to act like one. Now do as I ask, please, or I shall be forced to come up with a plan to go into town on my own. And we all know Jack wouldn't stand for that!" The two men were so relieved at her acquiescence on not going into town in person that they willingly agreed to the rest of her plan.

* * *

It began innocently enough. That in and of itself, Jack admitted to himself in reviewing the facts later, is what made it impossible to forestall the chain of events. He'd been reluctant to allow Norrington ashore, but Bill had sworn on his honor (or dishonor, depending on how one looked at things) that he'd be able to keep the navy man from landing himself feet first into trouble. Jack should have known better. An equal mix of outrage and boredom created the need for a hasty departure from Tortuga.

Anamaria elected to stay aboard the _Pearl_, her feelings on Elizabeth's seeming incarceration in not being allowed to go ashore made clear in no uncertain terms to Jack before he took Gibbs with him to see about re-supplying the _Black Pearl_ before they sailed again, as well as instigating a search for more information on the whereabouts of the _Sunlight Dreamer_. He had no doubt that Anamaria could take care of herself. It was Elizabeth that he harbored worries for and so his refusal of her request to go ashore seemed like the right thing to do. She acquiesced far too easily, an event which should have pricked his suspicions far more quickly than it did. However, everyone he questioned later, admitted the duel was the mocha-skinned woman's idea.

"Mrs. Turner, you have shown yourself to be an able hand with the duties of the ship, but we are a pirate vessel and you haven't proven to be of any use with a blade in your hand." Whether she meant to prick Elizabeth's pride or not, that was the very effect she garnered from the governor's daughter. They all thought her soft because of her breeding and station, yet they had all failed to take into account the skill of her fiancé, or that he might have proven himself as remarkable a teacher as he was a swordsman. So, the result of Anamaria's poorly worded challenge was a point in pride for Elizabeth. She stood, setting aside the netting she had been repairing, yet another task to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied.

"You'll soon learn the folly of your words, Anamaria." She warned in a low, cool voice. Without further preamble, Elizabeth drew the sword which had been belted to her hip since the day she'd traded her maid's skirts for a pair of proper breeches. Until that point, everyone, Anamaria included, had considered it to be an outward sign of her affections for the missing blacksmith, who's personal stamp was readily apparent on the slender, deadly looking blade. The way the governor's daughter held the sword showed she had every intention of using it to its fullest potential.

Anamaria had little choice but to follow through with her ill-thought out challenge and she drew her own serviceable cutlass in preparation for defending herself, a small voice in her head whispering that she'd badly underestimated Elizabeth's potential. The problem, she realized later, was that nobody had considered Will, as upright and proper a young gentleman as was ever born, would have thrown propriety out the window when it came to his ladylove being capable of defending herself. Gently bred young women had no need to pick up sharp pointy weapons. They had their lords and husbands to defend their honor and virtue.

Elizabeth's form and stance were perfect. Anamaria recognized that immediately, though she herself was more of the pirate's school of brawling and maiming. The fight she'd begun was going to be a difficult one. Without another word, Elizabeth lunged forward on the attack, beginning the duel in earnest.

* * *

Some distance away, on a rickety dock, another element of trouble was underway. A pair of scoundrels were taking turns watching the events unfold on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, trading a battered old spyglass between them.

"We never shoulda betrayed old Jack Sparrow," mourned the tall fellow with hair that looked more akin to a haystack than a proper coif.

"I don't see him anywhere on deck," the other returned, shorter and with stringy long hair that could do with a proper wash.

"Let me have a look." The tall one insisted, grabbing for the telescope with a great deal of impatience.

"Here now, what's this?" the shorter man had come upon the duel being fought on deck. "Well well well. I bet we could fetch a handsome price for _her_ if we could grab her off that blasted ship."

"Who is it, let me see!"

Pintel and Ragetti continued to watch the duel as it raged back and forth along the deck, and they deeply resented Elizabeth. Involving her in their affairs had marked the beginning of the end of the good life they had known under Barbossa's captaincy. It had never been the same since. However, they were simple men, and they knew they lacked the brains for coming up with a good plan to grab her on their own, so they resolved to speak to the miscreant they answered to now, a misplaced German by the name of Berger.

* * *

The first taste of trouble came from Bill's sudden descent to tight-lipped silence. He and James had been speaking of Will again in low voices as they walked the narrow and decrepit streets of Tortuga, bespeaking those people who still remembered Bill in a good light. Norrington had been doing his best to paint an accurate and vivid picture of Will's youth, when Bill went unexplainably quiet. James looked up toward the blacksmith's father, then followed his cold, unforgiving gaze along it's natural path to the two miscreants who stood with their heads together with a third, who was dressed in a manner as to mark himself more important than the others.

"What's wrong, Bill?" James ventured. The pair looked familiar and it finally came to him they were, or had been, among Barbossa's crew when they'd broken the curse on a night that James tried very hard not to remember. His thoughts were pulled back to the present by the slow clenching of Bill's hands into fists at his sides. And still the governor of Trinidad did not answer.

"William…what is it?" James tried again, striving to break the other man's attention from those he stared at so hatefully. He didn't wish to witness the outcome if Bill should choose action over inaction, at this point.

"I'll kill them," Bill hissed under his breath, though that didn't make the threat any less hostile, as his tone was shaded with fury. "I'll kill them both with my bare hands, if I must."

"Not unless you choose to forsake Will, who is a damned sight more important than a side dish of revenge."

"You don't understand…." Bill attempted to argue, to justify his hatred.

"I know I don't, Bill, but I can't just let you kill them, either. Perhaps if we follow them, they might lead us to some useful information. Does that suit you?"

"Alright, have it your way then," Bill returned sharply, "but we'd better hurry, or we'll lose them. They've just gone around that corner, there."

The trail led to a seedy looking building with the words _The Faithful Bride_ painted in bright, garish letters over the door.

"What do you know of this place, Bill?" Norrington inquired quietly from a side-alley, which seemed to be more common than a proper road in this dingy smuggler's town.

"I know people are bought and sold here." Bootstrap answered, studying the front of the building. "I've never had much occasion to run with the likes of Lotter, though. I don't truck with slavery, and Jack never did…though I confess I don't know if it were Barbossa's particular bent. I wasn't with the crew long enough to find out, with him as captain. I wager if Will were sold here in Tortuga, the bloke what runs this place would know of it, if he wasn't in charge of the sale himself." Bill fell silent as a string of bedraggled girls was prodded and pushed to stand in a line out in front of the establishment, as ramshackle as it was. They were all tied together at the waist, and some of them were weeping openly.

"By God..." James swore and started forward.

"You can't help them, James." Bill laid a restraining hand on his arm. "Not here, not now, in this place."

"He's selling those girls into slavery!" the former pirate nodded glumly, casting an assessing eye once more at the trussed girls.

"Yeah, that's what it looks like, alright."

"But the one on the end is no more than a child!" there was positive fury in the commodore's voice, and Bill was sure that he would do something foolish and blow the entire purpose for their presence in Tortuga in the first place, and that was to find out where Will was and what had become of him that the plans had gone awry.

"Leave it, mate. You haven't enough coin on you to save them all." Norrington was brought up short by the reminder that he wasn't acting in official capacity and he blew out a breath as he considered.

"Perhaps not, but that child deserves a better life than the one she's bound for."

"Then I suppose we should ask Lotter what her going price is. He's the one we need to be asking about Will, too."

"Bill Turner, bless my soul!" bellowed the auctioneer upon catching sight of the pair approaching him.

"None of that, Lotter. We're not friends and never will be, you and I."

"Oh, come now, 'old friend', you would think you could be nicer to a bloke such as I." Lotter affected a pained expression, downright inconvenienced by the open dislike on Bill's face.

"We're looking for a young man," James interrupted, disgusted by the flesh peddler's smug attitude and put-on airs. In response, Lotter looked both of them up and down in a suggestive manner before chuckling and leering nastily.

"Never would've thought you'd be one for the lads, Bootstrap. I've got quite a few girls on hand, but no boys. Sold the only one I had more than a week back." he took hold of the rounded arm of the child on the end and pulled her forward, beginning a spiel that he'd clearly only recently developed. "Now this sweet little thing, she's as pure as they come and would make any man a good strumpet, starting her out so young..." he didn't get any further into his pitch before James smashed his fist into the slaver's face.

Lotter came up spitting invectives, his fingers clapped to his nose as blood flowed between them.

"You bloody bastard!" he shouted, though the expletive didn't have nearly as much affect as it might have if he weren't burbling through his broken nose. Bill had the pistol out from his belt and aimed into the twisted auctioneer's face before he could do much more than that. "Go ahead, shoot me! I'm the only one that knows what happened to your whelp, you fecking sod!" Bill pulled back the hammer on the pistol, his face a portrait of blank, cold rage. James understood in that instant that if he didn't do something to head off the violence, Bill would commit cold-blooded murder in front of him. The terrible thing was, he had to argue with himself over the merits of seeing the man dead. The bitterness of it sat upon his tongue as he spoke.

"No, Bill, this isn't the way." Lotter laughed then, a bubbling sickly sound made more grotesque by the mess of his nose.

"That's right, Bootstrap, you kill me and all of Tortuga will be down around your ears, howling for blood. Whatever you want here, you can forget it. Get out before I change my mind about letting you leave whole."

"Not until you tell me who purchased my son."

"That's privileged information, now get the hell _out_!"

James pulled the coin purse from his belt and hurled it at the hateful man. The resulting squeal of pain was nearly satisfaction enough for the trouble they'd already endured.

"That's for your youngest girl. We'll be taking her with us." the explanation was delivered in a low, even tone that most of his men would freely admit was enough to put the terror in them, for all that it was so quiet. James then knelt to the task of untying the girl from the rest of the group, while a few of the others begged and pleaded to be bought as well. He did his best to block them out; there was nothing that could be done for them. The little girl regarded him with dark, haunted eyes before smiling just a little.

"Are you my knight in shining armor?" The navy man looked up at her, startled by the clearly enunciated question.

"Why, yes...I suppose I am."

"Me mum always told me stories about the knights. I never thought I'd meet one." the earnest way in which she spoke gave James hope that she hadn't been too badly affected by whatever events she had witnessed that had culminated with her in this terrible place, standing at auction for the benefit of unscrupulous men. He got the last knot undone and the girl was free of the line. The next young woman regarded James with mute appeal and he looked away, ashamed of himself in his helplessness.

"And where is your mother, little one?" her small face scrunched up, as she pressed her mind to the task of sorting out the most logical explanation for a child her age.

"I don't know. I bet she got sold to someone nice like you. I haven't seen her since the ship we were on got sacked by pirates."

James was transported through time and space to the deck of the _Dauntless_, and Elizabeth Swann's eager young face at all the talk of pirates and hangings. He was struck with wonderment that this girl could still think pirates exciting, even after suffering at their hands. The moment was broken by Lotter, who had been distracted in counting the coins in the purse that had been flung at him. He let out a bellow that had all heads turning in their direction.

"Thieves!" James whirled, furious that the dishonesty in this squalid little town could go so far.

"We paid you!" he insisted, voice tighter yet. Lotter simply smiled, nodding with his chin at a group of approaching men, each one more vicious looking than the last.

"They won't believe you, mate. Go ahead and try to explain." he tucked the jingling purse beneath his grubby shirt and moved with a whistle back down the line of his girls. James picked the girl up by the waist, surprised at how light she was, and even more so by the inherent trust evident in her willingness to hold tight to him, slender arms sliding around his neck for a better hold.

"Don't let go." he warned her unnecessarily, before bolting with Bill not far behind.

* * *

Jack and Gibbs were still gone, finalizing arrangements for supplies for the _Black Pearl_, as well as trying to ferret out more information on the whereabouts of the _Sunlight Dreamer_. The shipcreaked quietly to herself at the dock she was moored at and dusk was settling over the port, tinting the ships and buildings alike with a shade better suited to wickedness and villainy, the growing shadows of night stealing after the burnished red. The two pirates who crept along the forward deck looked as though they belonged among the hodgepodge crew that called themselves mates of the _Black Pearl_, but their behavior told a different story altogether. Crouching so as to be all but invisible to the occasional deck walker, Pintel and Ragetti whispered a quiet consultation.

"I don't know why you promised Lotter we could get him the poppet." Pintel complained bitterly, "This ship is guarded better now than it ever was when Bar-..." a filthy hand was clapped over his mouth to forestall any further words.

"Don't say his name. Don't ever say his name." Ragetti was sadly desperate, terrified of the thought that speaking only the name of their former captain would summon him back from the grave he so richly deserved.

Pintel sank yellowed teeth into the fleshy part of Ragetti's palm to make him let go. If he'd spared half a thought for it, he would have chosen a different method, because Ragetti's yelp of pain carried clearly over the quiet wharf.

"Shut up, you idiot!" the stocky, balding man hissed. They scuttled behind a stack of crates that had been recently loaded and not yet distributed. They held their position for several moments to make sure they hadn't been heard. Voices called to each other from the crew deck, but they were raised in boisterous challenge over some drinking record. This _was_ Tortuga after all and Jack was not fool enough to forbid the crew from indulging. The only sound was their ragged breathing, and Pintel got tired of smelling the garlic on Ragetti's breath before long. Soon enough, they resumed their painstaking progress toward the cabin they had seen the girl retire to as night began to fall.

"Where do you suppose Bootstrap's boy is? I haven't seen him since the ship docked."

"I don't know, maybe he's with Captain Sparrow."

"No, he isn't you idiot. We watched Jack come ashore."

"Oh, right..." Pintel rolled his eyes at his partner's clear stupidity, but he let it go. They'd deal with Will Turner if they came to him. Pintel reached out and opened the cabin door, peering around the frame carefully. He stopped rather abruptly when he came nose to point with the business end of a sword.

"You!" the startled identification came from Elizabeth, who was holding the aforementioned sword in a way which spoke volumes of her ability to use it.

"Er... 'Ello, poppet?" Pintel smiled in a sickly manner, trying to win her over. He failed to realize the familiarity would get him nowhere. Elizabeth even went so far as to prick his nose with the tip of the sword to make sure he understood where he'd gone wrong.

"If you ever call me that again, I'm going to start removing body parts. Do we have an understanding?"

"Of course, Miss Turner." a change came over her face then, and for a moment, Pintel remembered what it was like to lose someone precious to him. His thoughts were drawn back to the time his mother had died. "Where is the boy, then...where is Bootstrap's son?"

"If you don't already know, then you're of no use to me. What are you doing here, _pirate_?" she stressed the last word so there could be no mistaking the boundaries of the conversation as anything remotely resembling civil. Her words were harsh and her face grim, but there was still a hint of unshed tears trembling at her lashes that edged up Pintel's respect for her, even when he didn't want to care either way. Her strength was worthy of something...some recognition, but he wasn't sure he was capable of anything that noble. He gave her the one thing that was his to offer.

"I can help you find him."

"Why should I trust you? You mutinied on Captain Sparrow."

"Because, you'll need a little help. I have connections all over Tortuga. I work for a man who sells slaves. He'll know if anyone does."

"It's Jack's decision. If you want some manner of bargain, you're going to have to wait on his return." Pintel cocked his head, listening to the usual boisterous sounds of Tortuga after dark. There were the shrieks, the pistol shots...the men shouting. All of which would have been fine, except they were drawing closer to the docks.

"Alright then," he conceded, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll wait for Captain Jack. I wager he'll be along shortly. It sounds like Tortuga is up in arms over something, and trouble seems to follow Jack."

For a moment, a critical breath or two, Elizabeth was completely distracted as she listened for whatever Pintel had heard. He had to fight back the urge to take advantage of it, as he could have had her easily had the circumstances been different. But this was a show of faith, and he didn't want to ruin his chances to get back in Jack's good graces.

"Never let your guard down, girl, or someone else with less to lose will take you while you're not paying attention." Her cheeks flushed angrily at how easily he'd bested her. Then she proved just how clever she really was.

"You didn't know Will was missing when you first boarded the ship. You don't know anything about where he is. Why did you come here?" It was the one question Pintel had been hoping she wouldn't ask. Now he realized he could lie to her, probably far too easily, but Ragetti would let the cat out of the bag sooner or later, because he was a fool. So he attempted to earn a few points in his favor by laying the truth out in the open. It was a gamble he was willing to take.

"We were sent to collect you for the auctioneer. He would have paid a very handsome price for such a pretty girl as you are." her jaw tightened, the sword in her hand coming back up into a defensive posture.

"Go ashore then and find out what you can." then she lowered the sword again, though she held it in a sure grip, prepared if he tried to rush her. Pintel took her words at face value and began backing out of the cabin once more. "Oh, and Pintel?" he paused, looking up to meet her smoldering, angry eyes. "Don't come back unless you have something useful. You do that and I'll vouch for a position in this crew for you. Fail me...fail Will and I'll be the first in line to see you walk the plank. Do we have an accord, under those terms?"

Pintel nodded, grabbing the whimpering Ragetti by the arm as he passed and dragging him along.

"Yes, Miss Turner, we do."

* * *

Jack's first indication that there was trouble taking place while he and Gibbs conducted as honest a business as could be found in Tortuga was when someone stepped out of a shadowed alley and hauled him bodily back into their place of concealment.

"Easy on the goods, darling...oh, hello Bill, what are you doing here?"

"We have a big problem, Jack." Bill said, stepping to the side so Jack could see Norrington standing with the girl child.

"Looks like a small problem to me..." Jack responded with a questioning lift to one brow.

"He paid for her freedom from Lotter, but we had words over his refusal to tell us who he sold Will to." Bill raised a hand to forestall questions he could see forming before Jack could speak them. "Yes, he sold Will about two weeks ago, near as I can figure. We seem to be one step behind Jerem Raines all the way. Anyway, Lotter started shouting that we stole the girl, and now every able body in Tortuga is hunting for us. You've got to get us to the ship, somehow."

"Not asking for much, are you?"

"Jack!" In answer to the outrage beginning to color Bill's voice, Jack whistled, bringing Gibbs, who was leading a weary cart pony, on loan from the local brewer, with a wagon full of casks to a halt, to come back and investigate what was happening.

"I can't promise it'll be pleasant, mind you...and if the crew starts asking me why the rum is gone, I'm blaming the three of you. Hello, little love, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, do try and remember the captain part, nobody else bloody bothers any more."

"I'm Rianna. My father is a baron. My mother and I were trying to find him when our ship was attacked by pirates."

"Bloody marvelous, everyone has a story, isn't that so? We'll help you find your daddy one of these days, child, but first you must get into this smelly barrel." Gibbs and the other two, working quickly, had emptied three of the barrels, spilling quality rum all over the alleyway. If he thought a glass of rum being thrown to the floor was bad, seeing an entire barrel wasted pained him tenfold. Jack mourned the loss of it properly for a moment before turning his attention back to more vital matters. With the assistance of Mr. Gibbs, he hefted one of the three empty barrels and smashed it down onto the grimy cobblestones of the refuse-strewn alleyway.

Rianna was tucked away into one of the two remaining barrels with a tight-lipped Norrington and Bill occupied the other. No sooner had they got the contraband barrels strapped back into place on the wagon, when they heard the sound of an approaching mob. Jack shoved Gibbs into the wall and began haranguing him about the broken barrel. The brigands searching for the three fugitives from pirate justice paused for a moment to witness the event, before laughing and continuing on past the alley. Once they were gone, Jack motioned to Joshamee who took a seat on the wagon and hitched the pony into motion.

"Let's get them to the ship before they run out of air." Jack cautioned, hopping up onto the seat of the slowly moving wagon. "Sorry for having to yell at you like that, mate."

"It's all right, Jack. There's more at stake here than a man's pride and I've been lower a time or two."

* * *

The words that Bill used once everything had been explained to everyone's satisfaction were not fit for a woman's ears. Elizabeth was red-faced and on the verge of tears when he stormed out of the captain's cabin, fuming, and Jack had a perplexed frown on his face.

"The pair of you fought... On deck?"

"Yes, Jack."

"In plain view of every man and his monkey that might have a spyglass?"

"Yes, Jack." Her voice kept dropping lower and lower, and James' expression became even stonier. He had never seen anyone cut Elizabeth's self-confidence out from under her so neatly, not even her father had been capable of that.

"Pass along the order to raise anchor. We're leaving."

"We can't!" Elizabeth protested sharply.

"I will not tolerate those men on board my ship, Mrs. Turner." Jack retorted sharply, but there was a look in his eye that indicated he hoped she had the guts to argue back.

"And if they know where to find Will...if they know who bought him from the auctioneer? Are we to leave him to die because you dislike the messengers that bring us tidings of his whereabouts?"

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Very well then, Mrs. Turner. Since you see fit to dictate policy aboard my ship, I'll now be assigning you a new rank. Henceforth you shall be bosun aboard the _Black Pearl _and you will begin training in your new duties immediately. Dismissed!"

"But..."

"Dismissed!" Elizabeth turned and fled the cabin, fully aware that further argument wouldn't be tolerated.

* * *

Elizabeth was no fool. She was aware, perhaps too aware that she was running out of time. If the _Black Pearl _finished her preparations and was ready to cast off before Pintel and Ragetti got back, the wretched pair would be left behind. She had also determined that she hadn't really considered Bill's feelings when she'd made the devil's bargain with Pintel. She knew it wouldn't do to have her father-in-law angry with her and so she decided to tender an apology to Bill and ask for his forgiveness. She never got so far, since there was parroty screeching by the rail as Pintel and Ragetti hopped aboard the ship from the ladder dangling down the side. It spoke volumes about the crew's distracted state that none had been watching for their approach, though Elizabeth did have to wonder who'd had the forethought to lower the ladder in the event the disparate pair actually made their appointment with the departing ship.

Jack appeared from the captain's cabin and once more gave the command to cast off. His orders were obeyed without hesitation and he closed the distance between himself and the pirates who'd just come aboard.

"You'd better have some useful news, or you'll be swimming back to shore."

The _Black Pearl_'s sails unfurled in the quickening breeze and Elizabeth saw the small rowboat they'd used to get to the ship drifting away in her wake. The blacksmith's wife felt just as lost and hopeless as the boat. She experienced a feeling of foreboding that knotted her stomach so tightly she had to swallow not to gag. She moved closer to where Jack was speaking to Pintel and Ragetti, but they were already finished with their discourse. The two skulked away from Jack, bearing the mannerisms of whipped dogs and the pirate captain swung around, his gaze sweeping the deck in search of her.

"What did they say?" she asked, though judging by the expression on his face, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted the answer.

"Will was sold to a pirate woman some weeks ago. They aren't certain, but descriptions match Bess Burrel. It's altogether possible he was below decks while we stood on the main deck of the _Devil's Dowry _asking if she knew where the _Sunlight Dreamer_ was."

Elizabeth could feel the blood draining from her face as she fully realized the extent of what he was telling her.

"But why would she lie?"

"My past associates have a tendency to hold grudges, Elizabeth. I'm sorry Will got mixed up in her private war with me." Jack stood watching her absorb the shock and the pain and fully expected her to hit him. Much to his surprise, she didn't, though he would have begrudged her the opportunity.

"I think I'm going to be ill." Her words were quiet, verging on prim...everything one would expect from a well-bred young woman. She made a straight line for the nearest rail and was violently sick over the side. Jack drew a few sudden conclusions that pulled a reluctant chuckle from him.

"I'll be buggered. The boy's not a eunuch after all."

"What was that, captain?" It was Gibbs who came up alongside him, likely concerned over Elizabeth's apparent infirmity.

"It would seem, Mr. Gibbs, our young Mrs. Turner is with child."

Instead of giving his usual spiel to Jack about bad luck, ships and women, Gibbs looked downright worried.

"Are you certain, captain?"

"As certain as a man can be without a doctor looking her over. She hasn't been seasick once since we left Port Royal, awful strange for her to start now, don't you think?"

"It's terrible bad luck to have a woman on board, Captain... Even worse to be having a pregnant one." Jack found himself amused that Gibbs hadn't let him down after all.

* * *

He'd lost his name when he'd lost his ship, though some nagging feeling told him he'd once had both. The only other items in his possession were a loaded pistol he kept tucked into the band of ragged, sea-torn trousers and a sword that made him feel more confident, when it was in his hand. All else was lost.

The natives had taken to giving him a wide berth since he'd slaughtered the first that got too close with swordsmanship he did not recall learning. They kept their distance, yet maintained his well-being in their own strange way by making sure he had something to eat at least once a day.

They left food for him on a flat rock overlooking a deep inlet, a short hike from the place he'd chosen to make his 'home'. He sometimes went there to scan the horizon, though he couldn't rightly remember what it was he was searching for.

Logic defied their actions, though his moments of reason versus blind instinct were rare enough. He did not understand why they were keeping him alive when he had shown them nothing but violence. The voice whispering inside his head argued they were attempting to lull him into a state of trust before they killed him. He decided he would have to be wary about where and when he chose to sleep each night.

_Coming up in our next chapter:_

_Jack and company finally catch up with Jerem Raines and the _Sunlight Dreamer_, they finally find out what happened to Bess...and she leads them to Will. Stay tuned! _


	8. Aegri Somnia

To williz: Thank you for encouraging a rather rampant imagination, sometimes it's very nice to be told that I'm as good as I can only _hope_ I am. I have, thus far, made a real effort to maintain a balance of action, story and characterization and your words tell me truly that I've managed quite well. Thank you.

To orlikeiraluv: Wish granted.

To Araminta Ditch: While the lack of reviews was discouraging to my pride, my creative energies haven't paid it a bit of mind. You see, this is really all a grand experiment for me. I have taken a world that I'm wildly in love with (Yes, Will Turner is my god, I confess) and have attempted to smith a story to follow events that took place in the movie. I'm aware that they are already well underway with filming the sequels, there are two, but this is my version of what happens next. If I can finish this story, logic follows that I could write any story I wanted to, and it's my intention to break into professional writing at some point in the future. Encouragement like yours and williz give me the hope that I _can_ do this, and I'm greatly thankful for it.

The story is not dead, though it may be some time before the next update comes. As I've mentioned before, I haven't got a lot of time to write, so steal what dribs and drabs I can while at work and at play.

DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me, I'm just borrowing them. I'm not doing this for money, so please don't sue me! On with the story!

* * *

Watching Jack maneuver the _Black Pearl_ across the path of the smaller ship, Elizabeth began to understand her flawed grasp of tactics. The ship's momentum brought them out fifty yards ahead of the _Sunlight Dreamer's_ path and there was no way for the smaller ship to cut away from their present course quickly enough to avoid the broadside salvo from the _Pearl_. The roar of cannon fire deafened her and while she was intelligent enough to admit she was afraid, the unmistakable rush of excitement was difficult to deny. Jack had already given his orders. When the time came to board the _Sunlight Dreamer_ she was to lock herself in the captain's cabin. He would tolerate no harm to her or the unborn child. Without being aware of what she was doing, she spread her hand over the flat of her belly, missing Will so much she could barely stand it.

They had sailed from Tortuga nearly a fortnight before, trying to backtrack Bess Burrel's course in the hopes that the 'fastest ship in the Caribbean' could eventually run her to ground. There had been no sign of the _Devil's Dowry_, but dumb luck had put the _Sunlight Dreamer _in their sights. Jack was in a mood to punish Jerem Rains and Bill was backing him up as though the two men had never been at odds.

The main mast on the _Sunlight Dreamer_ toppled over with the ponderous, creaking groan of tearing wood and Elizabeth remembered with startling clarity when she and the rest of the crew had been on the wrong end of the _Pearl's_ guns.

Will had been there, then, though he had been trapped belowdecks by the fallen spar of what had once been the _Interceptor_'_s_ main mast. The navy ship had not survived the encounter and Elizabeth realized with a vicious stab of glee that Jerem Raines was losing his ship just as quickly. The _Sunlight Dreamer_ slowed perceptibly, having lost the bulk of her sail to carry her forward. Already, Jack's men were preparing grappling hooks to board the doomed vessel with all due speed. Jack began bellowing orders and she knew that it would serve her well to be shut away before he had time to divert his attention to her. She all but danced down the quarterdeck, hard pressed to restrain her own desire for a good, rousing fight. She made the conscious decision to put her child…Will's child ahead of her need for vengeance. Especially if he…No! She would not allow herself to think such grim thoughts. He'd been in trouble like this before; they both had and everything had turned out all right in the end. She would not entertain the idea, no matter how brief, that it would be any different this time. She would tell Will about the baby and they would prepare for parenthood together. And so it was that she was fully resolved to wait out the conflict she could hear even locked away in Jack's cabin when trouble found her.

* * *

Jerem Raines was no fool. He knew that his ship was lost to him. He felt no remorse whatsoever over the fates of his crew, they had been an ill-fitting lot from the beginning, hired for their skills and not the measure of their personalities. What he absolutely could not tolerate, however, was the thought that he would lose everything to someone like Jack Sparrow. It was with such seething thoughts that he made his way cautiously past knots of combatants toward where the captain's quarters traditionally were on any ship. He could pick the lock and wait inside and when Jack returned from sinking the _Sunlight Dreamer_ he would be at the mercy of Jerem Raines. The crew would be forced to do as he wished, for their loyalties to Sparrow were far more sturdy than his crew could claim toward him. It didn't matter, he refused to lose so cheaply. The lock came open easily enough and he slipped into the opulent chamber beyond, relocking the door so that Jack wouldn't suspect his danger until it was too late. It was then that he heard a voice behind him, trembling on the edge of outrage.

"I can't begin to guess who you are, or what you think you are doing in here, but I guarantee you'll regret ever stepping through that door."

Jerem turned to get a look at his challenger, and was startled by the beauty of the woman before him. Honey-golden hair tumbled over one shoulder where it was pinned back and though she wore men's trousers, there could be no mistaking the womanly curves beneath the rough cloth.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Turner's lady, aren't you? I must confess, I liked you better when I saw you unclothed, the night we took your young man." Raines had no way of knowing he couldn't possibly have chosen his words more poorly. Such carefully constructed insults, when directed at well-bred young women usually reduced them to embarrassment and sometimes even tears. This gave him an arguably unfair advantage which he never hesitated to take.

Elizabeth lost her head, then. It was not from any sense of humiliation, but rather from the stark, clear cut knowledge that this man was responsible for taking Will from her. She rushed him, sword leading and temper past managing, an attack that he easily sidestepped at the last moment, much like a Spanish bullfighter. He snapped a hand down over her wrist as she stumbled from the unexpected lack of a target, her momentum carrying her forward and allowing him to pull her around in a sharp spin while she was still off-balance. Before she knew it, her back was pressed tightly against the front of his body, her sword hand pulled across her chest and pinned to her opposite side. He increased the pressure on her wrist until she gave a low cry of pain and dropped the sword with a sharp clatter to the floor. He chuckled into her ear and she froze in the circle of his arms. Her heart beat rapidly and several times she made swiftly halted attempts to bolt free of his grip.

"That's it, darlin'. Just be steady and Captain Jerem will show you what a real man is made of, not that boy you chose to wed and bed." Elizabeth gasped as he gave her breast a solid squeeze and then dropped his hand lower, to work at untangling the laces that held her breeches up. She'd been working to calm herself, remembering Will's patient instructions regarding combat with a great deal of effort on her part. She was relatively clear-headed when she struck, reaching back to pull the dagger from his belt and slam it home in his leg in one smooth, lightning fast stroke. Will had taught her that, too, and she was glad of it now. The roar of pain from the man who had intended to rape her was gratifying, though she wasn't expecting the backhanded blow to her head as she tried to dodge out of the way. She'd been hoping he'd be too distracted with the knife in his thigh to try to harm her further. She fell to the floor, catching herself on hands and knees, but it also put her within reach of her sword once more and she quickly scooped it up and whirled to defend herself from the cursing pirate who was charging her with his own weapon raised. Their swords met with a clash of steel on steel and she gave ground, doing her best to wear him down.

"You slattern whore!" he bellowed, bringing his sword down in a savage cross-cut that she easily parried, sharp eyes watching his every movement to judge the effect her measured strike had on his ability to maintain the fight. The only problem was, he was still between her and the door. He continued to advance on her, his thrusts and parries becoming more wildly erratic as his wound began to take its toll.

"How did you trick Will?" her voice was steady now, unshakeable. "How did you kidnap my husband, you coward?" His answer was a ragged laugh.

"Coward, am I? We'll see who's the coward when I'm through with you, girl!" but his threat was just posturing, as he weakened from the injury she'd already given him. First blood was undeniably hers to call. His breeches, which had been pale, were darkening with the flow of blood where he'd pulled the offending metal from his leg. Elizabeth jumped when there came a sudden pounding on the door.

"Elizabeth!" it was Jack, sounding the most…sober she'd ever had reason to recall. She tried to circle around Jerem, but he was still alert enough to pose problems in that direction, lifting his sword to keep her at bay.

"Wait, Jack." There came another voice, James this time, characteristically the voice of reason even in the heat of battle. "Where is your key?"

"Bugger the key! I heard shouting; she's not alone in there!"

"I'm alright." Elizabeth called out, though there was no way she could get past Jerem, letting them know she was unharmed seemed to be a wise course, as Jack would probably break down his own door to come to her rescue. There was a hasty discussion on the other side and the sound of a key sliding home in the lock, before the door creaked open, allowing Jack and those in his company to enter.

"Raines!" it was Bill, catching sight of her opponent as he stepped past the threshold. "I'll kill you if you've lade a hand on my daughter-in-law!" Jerem rolled his eyes defiantly.

"Will you shut up? I know for a fact that she's not married to your whelp just yet, since I kidnapped the proper priest and replaced him with a man of my own crew to botch things up nice and good."

"He laid two on me, actually," Elizabeth interjected at this point. But before Bill could do more than step forward threateningly, she waved him off. "I've already more than repaid the insult, Bill, though it would be a great service to me if you'd remove this man from my sight. He makes me ill just to look at him."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jack again, endearingly more concerned for her welfare than the fate of the man who had sunk to his knees on the floor, clutching at his leg in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Pintel, as usual in places he had no business being, had come in behind the commanding crew to see what was happening, but he had paused, staring at the ring on Jerem's hand in seeming fascination. Elizabeth followed his gaze, a slight frown marring her brow. The ring seemed familiar to her somehow, but the stone at its center was as green as poison. She could almost feel herself drawn to it, the vaguest hints of something smoky moving in its depths, pulling her ever inward. It was Jack clearing his throat to get her attention that called her back.

"What? Oh…yes, I'm fine."

"Where did you get that ring?" Pintel asked suddenly, speaking up when everyone least expected him to. The tension in his voice was somewhat alarming and it cut through any lingering fascination she had with the emerald.

Jerem sneered at him, despite his pain, defiant to the last. Pintel moved closer to him, almost as though he'd take the man's hand just to get a better look.

"How long have you had that ring, man? Was it always green?" he pressed on, intent on finding his answers, oblivious to the effect his line of questioning might have on the rest of those present in the cabin. Jack was watching him with a look of mild confusion…par for the course, actually. James was watching Jerem to make sure he didn't try anything despite his wound, but there was an expectant air about the navy man as he waited for the pirate to speak.

"I got it from the boy, when we grabbed him from Port Royal," Jerem answered finally with a nasty smirk. There was in him the beginning of a clue that something was definitely behind the other man's questions. "And it was green as envy when I took it from him." He turned to regard Bill, to gauge the effect of his words even as he sank down from a crouch to a seated position on the deck. He was feeling a bit light-headed despite this last minute triumph over the general morale of those gathered. "Why…is it cursed, or something?" Bill moved then, his expression hard.

"Get the ring. I don't care if you have to cut his hand off, but get the ring." There could be no mistaking how serious the order was, which is why nobody was surprised to hear the jewelry in question hitting the floor with a heavy clink.

"Take your damned ring then. I hope it kills him." Jerem spat.

"James, go find that doctor from Jerem's crew that offered us his services, would you? I want Captain Raines here to have plenty of time to reconsider his words."

It was only then that the sea chest Elizabeth was fairly sure had until now only held clothes came open in front of their astonished eyes and Rianna crawled out.

"Is the fighting over, then?" With a low cry, Elizabeth dropped to her knees and pulled the little girl into her arms. Yet the look she turned on the assembled men, both friends and enemy alike was unforgiving.

"Get out, all of you!"

"But Elizabeth…" it was Bill braving her censure.

"Now!" Behind Bill, everyone else filed out, James roughly hauling Jerem along by one arm and yet the man who would be her father-in-law lingered.

"Alright then, but we need to talk, and soon." She could guess his intent easily.

"To what purpose, Bill? What good will it do Will for me to know what manner of curse he is under?" Rianna buried her face in Elizabeth's shoulder, whimpering at the heat in the young woman's words. "We don't even know if he's still alive!" Bill had to admit defeat.

"Have it your way then, but you mustn't give up hope, Elizabeth. Will is going to need your strength when we find him. And I _know_ we will. It's only a matter of time."

* * *

He'd been told to stay out from under foot by the captain when it became clear they weren't going to be able to outrun the black-sailed ship fast approaching out of the west. It was wreathed in a cloak of fog that told more clearly than the tattered sails upon a longer look that something wasn't quite right about their pursuer. The boy huddled beneath the steps leading up to the main deck and the steering column, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees.

There was an edge of terror dogging the men as they bustled about the ship, struggling inexpertly to load cannons they'd never had the practice of using. The cabin boy recalled one of the sailors mentioning the foreboding ease of the voyage thus far. It seemed their luck had run out at last. He stayed where he was, because he'd been more or less ordered to it, making an attempt to creep further behind the barrels that had been stowed beneath the stairs until he saw the identifying marks on the sides. Gunpowder, and plenty of it.

He'd begun to reconsider the wisdom of his chosen hiding place when the booming sound of a cannon being fired echoed through the thickening fog blanketing the sea around them. The boy shivered as the unnatural chill cut straight to his bones. Another boom, this one more distant answered their first shot, only to be followed by the splintering crash of tearing wood. His mind went numb to the sounds of battle until he saw the swaggering, hedonistic captain of the pirate ship. He cried out, lurching to his feet in terror.

"Barbossa!" the nameless one came awake with the chill of his memories still lingering about him and he struggled to make sense of the snatch of recollection while reason still lay within him. Barbossa had tried to kill him, though he couldn't remember why. No…the dark certainty within his mind asserted that Barbossa _had_ killed him. It was why the natives feared and respected him, because he was of the spirit, not the flesh. Incapable of keeping his thoughts in a straight line, the nameless one was helpless to do anything but agree. He would avenge himself against the captain of the _Black Pearl_, no matter what it took.

* * *

"Mr. Turner…he'd be your young man, wouldn't he?" The question startled Elizabeth out of her reverie, coming as it did from the surgeon they'd absorbed from Raines' ill-fated crew.

"Yes," she admitted. Though there was certainly no real need to point out the obvious, she couldn't find a reason to lie to the man, either.

"I attended to him for the duration of his stay aboard the _Sunlight Dreamer_."

"He needed a doctor, then?" her question was to the point, having gathered that much without prompting.

"Yes, he did. He ran a strange fever the entire time that I couldn't break, no matter what I tried."

"That was all…a fever? Your captain said he left a mark on Will. What was he talking about?"

"Ah, that. Raines is a vain man and not fit to be any man's captain. He took it into his head to test the boy, since there have been tales traded between crews ever since Sparrow got his beloved ship back. Raines wanted a challenge and he got more than he bargained for, even with the boy being ill. We were supposed to take Turner directly to his father, but Raines changed everything when your young man cut his face."

"He got what he deserved, then." Her voice was fierce, crackling with anger all over again.

"If Raines had just _told_ him where we were taking him, none of this would have happened." Jones seemed upset by the turn of events, but Elizabeth could well imagine how helpless he had been to force Raines to adhere to the original plan.

"Wait. Are you suggesting Raines knew the relationship between Will and Governor Teague?"

"Everyone knew. He was so damned pleased that he managed to cheat your father into paying him again for a job he'd already been paid to do."

"Thank you for telling me." Elizabeth stepped away from the rail, her stride determined and purposeful, and her expression implacable. She had to do something. She had to find some way to release the anger bubbling up inside and Raines was her most available target.

She strode between Pintel and Ragetti, who were doing guard duty outside the cell-like cabin that held their injured prisoner. They seemed disinclined to get in her way perhaps the first wise decision they'd ever made in their lives.

"You had the opportunity to tell Will where you were taking him, yet you didn't. How can you be so cruel and still call yourself a gentleman?" Raines was lying on a small cot within the room and his initial surprise at seeing her in his erstwhile jail was quickly smothered by an overbearing sense of smugness.

"I enjoyed making him crawl," he sneered at her, self-satisfaction dripping from every word. "Why should he have better than I by accident of birth?" Elizabeth let out a wordless cry of rage and began slapping him, sharp blows across the face. And then Jack was there, pulling her back by the waist, but she couldn't make out what he was saying for the hateful jibes Jerem Raines was spewing.

"That's it, Sparrow, get your little lightskirts off me."

"Shut your mouth, Raines, before I shut it for you. Stop it, Elizabeth! This isn't good for you or the baby."

"Tell me something, Lizzie, is the brat in your belly the boy's or has Sparrow been filling in for him?" Elizabeth was lifted completely from her feet and set back down somewhere in the vicinity of the door. Jack was gentle about it, but it was probably better than the alternative, because she'd already slipped Jack's pistol from his sash to kill the bastard where he lay. She realized dimly that Jack merely wanted a clear path to Raines himself and was beset with a sharp stab of disappointment.

"Elizabeth, I'll handle this. You have duties to attend to on deck."

"What, does she have to service the crew for the day?" Raines just couldn't keep his mouth shut, but Elizabeth was trying desperately to block him out.

"Yes, Jack." She had no idea what he meant to do, but she held his pistol out to him. He took it back with a surprised look, perhaps he'd never even missed it. She fled, then. It was either that or weep in front of the man who had taken so much from her.

After she was gone, Jack and Raines stared at each other.

"One more unkind word to her and I will make you suffer in ways only I can devise." Jack's face was deadly serious, an element rarely witnessed by anyone.

"You don't frighten me, Sparrow."

"Maybe I don't, but I'll find a way somehow. She's suffered enough from your greed. Leave her alone. I'll not risk her losing the babe she carries, if it's all she has left of Will Turner because of you."

Jerem grinned slyly, cruelly. It seemed to be the only emotion he was truly in touch with, by Jack's estimation.

"You haven't told her what Bloody Bess does with the young men she buys, have you?"

"No I have not. And if I have anything to say about it, she need never find out. I'm through with you, Raines. You and I are done."

"May I beg a boon of you, Captain Sparrow?" Jerem's conciliatory tone should have warned Jack, but still he granted his permission with a nod.

"Would you tell me if she's any good in bed, mate?" Jerem never saw Jack swing on him, but he certainly felt the blow that sent him spiraling into unconsciousness.

* * *

In the month and more they had been searching for the _Devil's Dowry_ a great many things had occurred on the _Black Pearl_. Jack had offloaded those men if Jerem's crew that proved too fractious to cooperate with a more lenient hand at the tiller. Jerem had been moved to the holding cell in the belly of the ship with James as his only voluntary keeper. Elizabeth was forced to return to the wearing of skirts as her waistline thickened and she took to carrying the cursed ring in her pocket. After Pintel had told her what he knew of the ring, it was the only clue they had pertaining to Will's continued existence. The stone remained a hateful green, and so she held onto hope. Elizabeth also, though the only other person of the crew who knew was Anamaria, had felt Will's child stir within her. And then there were the dreams…nightmares, really. Nightly she found herself lost in a tropical forest always being chased by something she couldn't see.

Supplies were dwindling and plans were being made to return to Port Royal to restock the ship. Elizabeth dreaded going back, though she couldn't argue against the fact that it was the closest port to their current heading. Everyone knew her there, and tongues would wag. She and Anamaria had taken to Rianna as surrogate mothers, but they both had an unspoken agreement the ship was no place for a girl child to grow up.

It was Mr. Gibbs and his fear of the supernatural that brought them their final stroke of luck. His sharp eyes picked up a fog bank hanging off the coast of a small island with lush undergrowth and what appeared to be a slipshod home constructed on the one cleared beach. Jack, against further protests from the quartermaster, ordered them to drop anchor and put a couple of jollyboats ashore.

The fog drifted in tatters around the boat that Elizabeth sat in and it seemed to cling to her skin and settle in to chill her through and through. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself to try and keep warm. She wasn't even sure why Jack had let her come. It's not as if an obviously pregnant woman would be of any assistance in the event of trouble. She began to think that maybe Jack knew more than he was letting on.

The fog swirled and eddied around them, though there was no wind to move it. Slowly, the sound of a woman's shriek echoing hollowly became more apparent, more audible, and Elizabeth looked around them, trying to figure out where it was coming from as Jack steadily applied himself to the oars. She couldn't tell if it were rage or pain behind the sound. Jack had gone pale beneath his habitual kohl and that more than anything brought home the knowledge that she wasn't hearing things.

"Hold tight to the gunwales." He suggested, even as the sea not far from the bow of their small boat began to churn and roll. The wailing grew louder, given voice by an inhuman throat. Water streamed from the figure that rose from beneath the surface. And though her back was to them, there could be no mistaking her for Elizabeth.

"It's her!" she fumbled for the pistol Jack had given her and pulled the trigger back, fully prepared to shoot Bess Burrel in the back if she had to. The woman had risen from the depths much as a dolphin would broach for air. The key difference was the ease in which Bess defied the elements by standing amidst the wavelets that lapped at the side of the boat.

"Don't, Elizabeth. It won't do you any good." Jack warned, reaching out to stay her hand. Bess turned on the water to regard her with green eyes as cold and unyielding as the stone of the ring that lay within her pocket even now.

"Go ahead, girl. Your lover already took his shot, for all the good it did him." Her skin was still unmarred, though seaweed had begun to grow in her hair, mute evidence that even the denizens of the sea would not touch her flesh. Bess pulled down the already low front of her bodice slightly to reveal the perfectly round hole drilled through her chest. And while there was no sign of blood, Elizabeth could see right through her, the snap realization turning her stomach alarmingly. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the sound of Bess Burrel's laughter.

"Where is he, Bess?' Jack interrupted. Bess gave a careless little shrug as she hopped lightly from the surface of the water into the boat with them and sat primly smoothing her waterlogged skirts.

"I wouldn't know, Jack Sparrow. He murdered my men, stole my ship and left me here to rot." Her look, turned on him, was one of studied innocence and Jack simply wasn't buying.

"You always were a poor liar, Bess." He interrupted her coy act with blunt truth. "You'd already marked him, or you couldn't possibly be speaking to us now." Elizabeth's mind raced, trying to piece together the things she knew, to figure out where Jack was going with it. Bess pouted, foiled in her attempt to sway a bargain more to her benefit.

"Very well. Yes, I know how to find him, but I will not give him up so easily, Jack. You have three choices, as far as I can see. The first is that you refuse me. Angus will die and so does your lad because I will tell you nothing and the sea is vast…so vast." Jack waved a hand to silence Elizabeth's protests before they could be properly launched.

"I'm not nibbling yet, go on."

"Ah, but you do it so _well_, Jack." Another shrug to indicate she expected him to argue, even if the compliment was true, before she continued on. "Your second choice…ah, yes. You take me aboard your ship, I take you to the young man, and you let me complete the ritual. I'll happily share the boy with his lover for the duration."

"No!" the denial was Elizabeth's, firm and intractable.

"No?" Bess raised a brow. "Suit yourselves." Emerald eyes flickered over the blacksmith's young wife before she gave forth with a deeply affected sigh. She pulled a comb from her skirts and began to straighten the tangled mess of her hair. "Yes, I suspect it _would_ be difficult to play house with daddy off with another woman. He is quite attractive, your young man. I can see why you don't want to share." She turned her attention to James, then.

"My third offer might be more palatable for you. Find a suitable replacement for him. The navy man would do nicely. I'd take special pleasure in using him to preserve Angus for another while longer." The hate in her voice was unmistakable and James squirmed slightly under the heat of her gaze. And then her attention was back on Jack. "Or you, Jack. Would you give yourself for the happiness of the children?"

"I have Jerem Raines aboard my ship. I'm wondering, Bess…if he mightn't better suit your needs?"

"Jack, you never change, do you? Always willing to sacrifice others before yourself." Jack had the grace to look offended at her accusation. "Very well, Raines is a fop, but he'll serve nicely indeed. Let us go and get Angus from shore. The sooner we're aboard your ship, the sooner I will take you to the boy, may the devil take you all." Jack laughed then, his expression heavy with ironic humor.

"Why should he want us, Bess? He already has you."

* * *

It was well into the night when the increase in noise registered on the lost one's awareness. He rose from the mossy ground that had served as his bed since waking on the island and armed himself with sword and pistol before beginning a trek through the forest to find the source of apparent jubilation.

As he continued along his chosen path, he became increasingly convinced the native tribe must be gathered at the rock where they served his food. The intrusion to what had become his personal domain upset him considerably, bringing the dark awareness awake inside his head.

_**What is it?**_

"I don't know, it sounds like they're celebrating something." There were moments such as this where he wondered if he and the maliciousness were really one and the same, but he could find no proof to refute the possibility.

**_Let's go and find out what they're so happy about, shall we?_** At least they were in agreement on that particular point. He slipped through the jungle, having developed a knack for leaving no trace of his passage in the time he'd been on the island. He stopped once he could see the clearing around the rock from a higher vantage point. There were so many dark-skinned bodies occupying what had once been an open space that it was difficult to say how many had gathered there. What riveted his attention, instead, were the black sails rising from the deck of the ship which had been anchored out in the small bay; a ship that had haunted his nightmares for as long as he could recall. The ship was, apparently, the cause for the natives' celebration.

He narrowed sharp eyes, searching the gathering for one he was certain to recognize. There. The red bandanna and dangling gewgaws drew the eye rather quickly and without really considering what he was doing, the nameless one slipped from his place of concealment to confront the tormentor of his past. He expected hostility when the other caught sight of him, he was unprepared for what he got.

"Will!" there was relief and even some measure of joy in his enemy's expression as he babbled on. "Mother's love, we've been worried sick about you, boy!"

**_Don't let him speak!_** The voice within all but shrieked at him. **_He's trying to trick you into trusting him!_ **Will, for that must be his name, lifted the loaded pistol and trained it on the garrulous pirate before him. The natives became agitated, chattering back and forth in their strange tongue, disturbed by the threat to their chief. Jack answered them in kind, making gestures to calm them. Once they were appeased, he turned back to Will.

"It's time to come back with us, Will. Elizabeth has been worried sick about you. She has something she needs to tell you." A spark of sweet memory kindled within Will and he took an uncertain step forward, confusion clear on his face. He could almost see her in his mind's eye. The brief feeling of trust was wiped out by the raging presence within his mind, however. Still…he must be certain he had the right person.

"You…are the captain of the _Black Pearl_?" the name of the ship leapt unbidden to his mind as he lowered the pistol slightly, his resolve wavering.

"Yes! I'm Captain Jack Spar…" Jack never finished the introduction as the pistol came back up with startling speed. Jack could see the grim determination in Will's expression as he pulled the trigger. So much for his assurances to the natives that he could talk the boy out of hurting anyone.

"I bloody well didn't deserve _that_." Jack gasped, before slumping to the ground. Will Turner, wild-eyed and unreasoning wheeled and fled the clearing while everyone still stood around gaping in astonishment at what he'd just done.

* * *

"We are not so different, you and I." Bess spoke with warm tones, almost fondness, and Elizabeth turned to regard her with a look of stunned incredulity that spoke volumes on what she might choose to say in return.

"You look at me as though I am mad," Bess continued, "And yet…I see a lot of myself in you. There is no knowing what you would do for love of William, is there? As for me…I gave my life to warn my love, and my soul to save him. Could you honestly say you would not do the same?"

"I don't know." Elizabeth answered honestly, giving it due consideration. She had already risked much, not the least of which were her reputation and her life. She thought of the vile man locked in the hold who would have forced her into intimacies that she had only shared with Will on the presumption she was free for the taking. It didn't matter that James was there to guard propriety, she was with child and as yet, not honestly wed. It was enough to bring her nearly to tears to realize that she was, indeed, trading another man's life to save Will. She could marshal no argument that would paint her in a positive light, so she wisely said nothing at all.

Their conversation was cut short by the stormy entrance of Anamaria, who moved to the large downy bed and began stripping it bare. She pulled fresh bedding from one of the many chests in the room, fuming all the while, her brisk motions driven by an economical use of obvious fury.

"What's wrong, Anamaria?" Elizabeth hesitated to ask, since the dark-skinned first mate's temper was legendary aboard the ship.

"What is wrong?" Anamaria snapped the question as though she were chewing on bits of glass, adding a note of incredulity to it somehow. "Jack found your bloody husband on the island, just as _she_ said we would…" The mocha-skinned beauty shot a venomous look toward Bess. "And then he got shot for his troubles!" Elizabeth's first thought was not for Jack's well-being…but for Will and whatever had happened that resulted in a shooting. Of course, this resulted in a full-blown sense of guilt, because Jack had very nearly sailed the entire Caribbean trying to find him…for her. Luckily, Anamaria seemed to understand what froze her on the spot, torn as to what she should do or say.

"I'll take care of Jack. You go and find your man before someone gets killed. He's got the local tribe stirred up, because they made Jack their chief some time back and they're upset that he shot him."

It didn't take further prompting to get Elizabeth rushing from the cabin in her haste to find Will before one of the angry natives did.

* * *

Jack let out a full-throated yell and immediately began thrashing away from Jones and his surgical tools.

"When I asked for rum, I didn't mean pour it on my bloody shoulder!" he shouted into the man's face. Jones lifted a brow and turned a meaningful look toward Anamaria, since she'd agreed to assist him in attending to Jack.

"Is he always this charming a patient?"

"Usually worse," she disagreed. Jack made a disgusted sound.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not even in the room. Where is Elizabeth, I need to tell her what happened."

"I already told her…"

"Oh, good."

"She's gone to fetch Will back."

"What! No, no, no, no! That's not good…that's not good at all. You have to bring her back at once. He'll kill her."

"I'll send Bill and James," Anamaria assured, stepping to the door even as she mentally kicked herself for sending Elizabeth into danger, no matter how unwittingly. "They'll see her safely back." She had believed that if anyone could bring the boy back without further incidents, it would have been Elizabeth. Now she had another car to add to her already numerous worries, which only served to make her more waspish yet.

"Damn you, Will Turner, and all the trouble you've caused!" she muttered on her way to find the boy's father.

Elizabeth was running through the dense jungle growth at that very moment. The thick vegetation threatened to yank her from her feet with every step and she could almost convince herself that this was yet another in the string of nightmares that had plagued her aboard the ship if it weren't for the nagging stitch in her side that had begun to steal her breath. She didn't dare pause to recover herself even for a moment, because the crashing sound that followed her were far too close for comfort.

Her carefully contrived plan to bring Will back to the ship had come undone when he came upon her unexpected, brandishing the sword in his hand with deadly intent. One look at his face, at the feral, territorial expression that dominated all else and bolting had seemed the best option. There had been no trace of recognition. The only advantage she had right now was that she was smaller and more easily capable of slipping between the densely packed trees, even in her pregnant state. However, she _was_ losing ground. The problem was the growing steepness of the terrain she was attempting to navigate.

She burst into a clearing illuminated only by the full moon and her eyes picked out a ledge, really nothing more than a deeper darkness in a jutting wall. It seemed like just the place to hide. Rallying her strength, she dashed across the open ground and leapt for the outcropping of rock, hauling herself up as quickly as she could.

Elizabeth had almost made it when a rough hand grabbed her by the ankle and gave a sharp yank, pulling her back toward the ground as her fingers scrabbled for better purchase. She twisted as she fell, successful in cushioning her landing to protect the child she carried within her. She kicked at him, scoring a lucky blow to his jaw, but still he managed to pin her beneath him, his face mere inches from hers. Every detail of him was painfully familiar to her, but there was enough moonlight in the little glad that she could detect no trace of familiarity in his angry, dark brown eyes.

"Who are _you_? Why won't you leave me alone?"

Elizabeth struggled to regain her breath, even as she feared what he might do at the wrong answer.

"Will…it's me, Elizabeth." She hated the trembling, pleading note she could hear in her voice, but there was little else she could do. "Don't you remember me?" He looked at her, studying her face and for an instant the barest glimmer of recognizance swam to the surface and she _knew_ he knew who she was.

"Elizabeth?" he looked confused as though trying to figure out what she was doing in such a strange place. The moment was far too fleeting, and her Will was replaced once more by the unreasoning anger of his madness.

"I won't be fooled!" he raised the sword as though to strike, when suddenly he cried out and dropped it, clawing at his back in desperation. He levered himself off her and staggered a few steps, before dropping to his knees. Elizabeth didn't understand what was happening until she saw the tribesmen appearing on the edge of the tree line, some with thin reed pipes still pressed to their mouths. Dawning horror had her shouting her denial even as she scrambled over to where Will had fallen. There were several needle-thin darts sticking from his back and she pulled them free and threw them as far as she could. He was unconscious already, but still breathing, though she knew it might not be much longer if the natives had poisoned him. Bitterly, she began to cry. They had come all this way to save him, only to lose him now.

Someone was speaking to her and she looked up with surprise to see Bill and James standing there. Bill was attempting to get her away from Will, but the irrational fear that she would never see him again gripped her and she refused to let him go.

"No! He's dying!"

"No, Elizabeth, he's only sleeping so that we might get him to the ship without any more fighting." Bill was looking at Will with a bittersweet expression on his face. There was joy at finally seeing Will fully grown, mingled with the terrible knowledge that what was happening to his son could be laid at his feet. He blamed himself, even if no one else would. James had gathered Elizabeth into his arms and was trying to calm crying that bordered on the hysterical once the initial shock of what had happened had worn thin.

"He doesn't know who I am." She kept repeating, and that tore Bill apart, too. What parent could claim to love their child and still do something so terrible as this? He turned and directed the hunters who had come with them to transport Will back to the ship even as James lifted Elizabeth up to carry her there himself. Bill followed close behind, subdued into silence by vicious self-loathing.

* * *

_Author's note: The chapter title Aegri Somnia translates from Latin as the dreams of a sick man. I felt it was rather apropriate given that Will isn't quite sane any more. We'll be developing more of that as we go, as well as revealing the identity of the angry voice inside his head. Lord, I feel much as though I've given birth, these last two chapters have taken some time and effort to get out. Please be patient with me, dear readers, I promise there is more to come!_


	9. Chapter 9

Due to a great many factors, I feel obligated to inform all of you that I can no longer continue this story at the present time, as dear as it has been to me in the creation of it.

Among them is the first fact that Pirates of the Caribbean does not belong to me, and by pursuing it, I am keeping myself from tackling a much larger, and original project that could lead to a career as a novelist.

Another is that my fiancé has been incredibly ill for the last month, and I'm still waiting for things to settle down to the point where we're back to normal. That hope may be a long time in seeing fruition.

For those of you too impatient to wait a long time for an update that may or may not ever materialize, I offer to provide you with a capsule synopsis of how the story was supposed to turn out.

If you can bear with me, I'll probably come back to it occasionally to finish what I've started.

Thank you all for being such loyal readers. I felt I owed it to all of you to let you know what was going on, since so many authors just lose interest and never offer explanation for their drifting away.

Desperately searching for more rum,

Romanicat


End file.
